The funerals were long and black.

One for Mom.

One for Dad.

I didn't cry anymore. Not for either. Mom's funeral left me numb and cold. Dad's funeral left me broken and desperate.

I was done. I couldn't feel anything anymore.

They said Dad was shot in the head. He was buying ice cream for dinner - then this Bastard walks in and freaks out when the store owner calls the cops and starts shooting. Dad never saw the bullet coming. Thankfully the man was shot dead in an alley way when he tried to kill on officer - so there was no target for revenge anymore. I was saved from becoming Batman . . .

It didn't make me feel better though.

Drew had disappeared - I didn't care about the jerk but - but Mom died and so did his kid . . . he should have at least been at the funeral if nothing else.

But he wasn't.

I didn't care.

Then came the questions. The concerns. The condolences from people I had no clue who they were.

Your father was good man.

He's still with you sweetie.

You'll be alright.

Must be hard -

Just meaningless words that blurred and melted together. Like an ugly Picasso. I don't care.

Unfortunately - the state did. I just wanted to be left alone. The world was gray and black and muddy now - I couldn't see colors anymore, I didn't see anything really - I don't remember much of the few weeks after Dad's death. His murder. He didn't deserve to go like that - he didn't.

He was a good man, he never drank or gambled or anything - he always put me first, even after Mom broke his heart and left us. He cared, he loved me - he deserved to die in bed with grandchildren surrounding him - comfortable and fulfilled - not in his prime and alone.

My eyes burn. They try to well with tears but there aren't anymore in me.

Then the social workers came. They say I'm too young to stay alone. They say I have no immediate family around the area and the one grandmother I had lives across state - she lives in a old person's home.

So nobody could take me in. I was alone. I was fine with that. But those bastards say I can't live alone - I need to be taken care of. By who? A stranger? I don't need that crap - I just want to be alone and pretend like Dad's still here.

Just - just let me pretend.

They don't.

I'm whisked away without so much as a notice and practically tossed into the nearest foster home in my neighborhood - which wasn't all that great of a place.

It was a sad run down thing, just barely keeping it together so as not to be shut down. It feels as suspicious as it looks.

The woman that runs it is called Mabel. She's big and wide and has dark hair mixed with white, her eyes are small and beady and she has warts on her chin. She was almost as vulgar as she looked too.

"Another one." She grouses when they tell her why they've brought me, she flashes me a disinterested look.

"Both parents died Mabel, just keep her here until we find a home for her." The social worker assures the grouchy woman.

Mable mutters under her breath after they leave and zeros in on my tiny self - next to her I feel like an ant.

"Do you eat much?" She demands to know.

I grimace. "No." I wasn't in the mood to talk.

She sniffs and thuds to a creaky door opening it to reveal even creakier steps. "Upstairs is the rooms you will sleep in. Breakfast and dinner are served here, nothing else, we can't afford it. Go upstairs and don't cause trouble. The brats that don't get adopted are kept on as workers."

Slaves.

I had a strange disorienting feeling when that word pops into my head, like this is the seventeen hundreds and this foster home was like the orphanage in Oliver Twist. I shudder.

"Whatever." I mutter and shuffle past her, avoiding her beady eyes as I gingerly climb the rickety steps. My stomach is in knots as I suddenly had the wild idea to burn this place down and run out screaming.

Upstairs was dusty, cramped with at least thirty beds and even more kids, all different sizes and colors and ages and none were older than me. They all turned and flashed my with eyes that sunk in, no light in them - like they've seen too much ugly of the world too soon and they don't want to be here anymore.

I sigh. I don't want to talk to them.

Someone scoffs at me when I take a spring worn bed in the corner.

"New kid."

"System hasn't broken her yet."

"She won't make it."

"Definitely return material."

I don't know what they're talking about, I don't care. I just want to go home and see Dad again - please - I just want my Dad.

I don't cry.

Still no tears left.

"Hey newbie." A younger boy with a crooked nose and yellow hair calls at me.

I glance at him and turn back to the window.

"You gonna ignore us?" He says louder.

Others start to mutter.

I ignore them all.

Someone scoffs. "Thinks she's better than us."

"Bitch."

I bristle and turn to glare at them. They glare back. Only their glares are uglier and meaner than mine. "You want something?" I snap, angry now - it surprises me - I haven't felt anything for a while.

Crooked Nose snorts. "So she does know how to talk." He mocks.

I glare harder.

A thin tan girl laughs rudely. "Spoiled. That's what she is!"

They all agree. What the heck? What'd I ever do to them? Leave me alone you bastards.

I say as much. They all seethe, a girl shoves me and threatens to take my rations when I get them - what are we, in jail? Someone else snatches my bag and dumps it out as a boy grabs and holds me down. The rest cheer like this is a dog fight and were in Shakespeare time as they rummage and make fun of my nice things. Dirty jealous pigs.

"Let go!"

They laugh and shove, someone spits at me. I don't cry, I curse and throw out a hand - it scratches down someone face - the person shrieks and someone pulls my hair.

"Bitch!" They shriek at me, I don't understand - why were they so nasty? What did I ever -

A loud piercing whistle sounds from downstairs. They all stop like well trained dogs. Then they forget me and stamped downstairs like roaches.

I hack and stand up, my scalp stings and I choke on dust. My things were ruined and tossed around. I shudder and go to pick them up.

A foot steps on the shirt I was aiming for. I look up and scowl.

The crooked nose boy sneers down at me. "Consider this a lesson. Soft kids don't survive for long." And he stomps down stairs.

I hate him.

I hate them all.

They are all nasty brats that deserve whatever happened to them to land them here.

I grit my teeth and clean up, my face red from anger. Then - that was it - it was so easy.

I scream and curse and kick down the beds like a wild animal. The rage seeps out and keeps on coming like boiling lava out of a volcano - I hate, and hate, and hate, and hate.

My anger burns me, my heart tears - I feel black and horrid.

That was it.

I wasn't numb anymore.

I was just angry.

And I realized - it was safer that way.

"Hey Spoiled!" One of the girls yells at me.

I ignore them, pull my hoodie lower, my eyes training on the floor as I carry a bag of flour to the rat infested kitchen. I have never seen the rats - but I can hear them at night - I know they're here.

"Spoiled! I'm takin' to you!"

It's been three weeks. Three god forsaken weeks - I don't eat, I don't sleep - I barely remember my name anymore. Every kid here has set out to antagonize me, some leave, others come back - all hate me and it's all because they think I was better than them.

A heavy hand grabs at me and yanks. I stumble, the bag falls and rips open sending a huge puff of suffocating white.

I turn to glare at Rags, she's the biggest girl here and her pants are always ripped. "What!" I hiss.

She sneers at me. "Now look watchya done, Immana tell Mabel!" She says, glee evident in her voice.

I refuse to pale. I scowl.'"Back off Bitch." I snap at her, my face contorting into a vicious feral look. I've put up with this for too long. My anger was a constant bubbling inside my stomach. I was done being mild.

Others gather around and watch as Rags blinks at me in surprise then she snorts. "Shrimp thinks she's scary." She laughs, mean and fake.

Other join in and start chanting at me.

"Shrimpy, shrimpy, shirmpy!"

Each time the word hits my skull like an annoying tap that gets harder and louder with every passing second raising my anger with it until I'm ready to pop. I grit my teeth, fists clench so tight I break the skin on my palm. I'll show them shrimp!

Rags never sees it coming.

She's still laughing until I throw the best sucker punch I ever have, hitting her dead in the nose. She flies backwards screaming and grabbing at her face. The others freeze.

I seethe hate at all of them. "Back. Off." I spit as Rags' face looks up with a mixture of fear and disgust.

Crooked Nose snorts behind her and starts a slow clap.

I blink, my anger still lining my shoulders - others start to clap too. Eventually they all clap.

Rags looks ready to cry.

I'm just confused.

"Guess you got what it takes after all." Crooked Nose snorts again. He's such a freak .

"What's going on in there!" Mabel bellows from the office.

We all go ridged then scatter like scared rabbits before she can catch us.

My fist stings as I hide in a closet. But I realize - I feel better. Maybe violence did help a bit.

I just stare at the squishy bread slop in milk. I wasn't hungry last week why should today be any different.

Other kids were scarfing this crap down. I shudder just watching it dribble down their chins and faces.

"Better eat before there's nothin left of ya." Crooked Nose snarks from across the table.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Mind your own beeswax." I snap, irritated.

"Fine then." His eyes flicker to Gator, a thin boy with four canines on the top gum, he eats like a gator too as he reaches forward and snatches the bowl away from me.

I grimace when he slurps it down and tosses the empty thing back in front of me. "Take what you can get." He lisps and goes back to his chair.

I shudder again and stand to leave. Until Mount. Warts stops me by blocking the entire freaking door.

"You have dishes duty." She says, voice flat and gravely - like a guy.

I scowl. "Whatever." And stomp towards the kitchen to wash some nasty dishes.

I know the others are going to make them as disgusting as possible before they give them to me. Which is exactly what happens - they leave laughing.

I throw a bowl and it whacks a girl called Bendy in the back of her head.

"Hey Shrimp!"

I bristle at the name. Nobody knew anyone's name here - we just called each other whatever the heck fit. "What."

"They're talkin' about you!" Crooked Nose calls through the doorway.

They? Who's they?

I sneak past his boney self and poke my head in the hole of the wooden planks of the wall. Mabel was talking to some guy I have never seen before. He wasn't the grocer - and he sure wasn't a social worker - he didn't look like a janitor - who was he?

"If you're sure." Mabel was saying, her warty chin wrinkling up as she scrunches her face in a way that means she's totally against what you're saying.

The voice that answers her is calm and collected - smooth and gentle and - very, very opposite of everything around this dump.

"I am. I've only just heard but - it's for the best I believe." He says. I wish I could see his face, all I can see is a blue shirt and dark, grey streaked hair.

"Alright. The papers should be done by the end of the week. But I'll have you know - Zaria Flores - is more trouble than she's worth." Mabel warns him like she's doing him a favor.

My face crinkles into an angry frown, she's such a jerk.

The man laughs softly. I feel a tug inside - I want to see who he is!

"I'm sure we'll be fine. Thank you for your time Ms. Mabel."

Even Mabel seems docile around this guy. She gives him a horrible twist of a smile that's supposed to be some kind of friendly and leads him out the door.

I get so caught up in trying to see the guys face I forget to move away, Crooked Nose yanks me back instead before I'm spotted.

I turn and just stare at the wall.

"So. You gonna escape this hell after all." He says - but there's something off about his voice.

I blink at the skinny moron. "Yah. Maybe - we'll see."

He sneers at me and shoves me hard against the wall. I glare back. "Don't be stupid Shrimpy, if that guys gonna take you out you get out." He snaps forcefully.

I blink at him again. "What if he's a crazy serial rapist?" I hiss back, not really liking him thinking he could tell me what to do.

He lets out a sharp laugh, sounded like a wounded weasel. "Bitch please, like anyone would want to rape you."

I punch him in the gut.

He doubles over and continues to wheeze.

I shove him aside and stomp back into the kitchen. Bastard deserved that.

Then I got back to wondering - who would want to take me out? Any how did they know about me? Did I know them? Was there someone the social workers missed? Maybe it's a long lost uncle or something . . .

My mind didn't stop thinking about it and the possibilities of that guy.

Some were good - some were bad. I couldn't sleep anyway so staying up all night thinking about the theories was easy.

But I still wasn't any closer to the answer once morning rolled around then I was when I found out.

The weeks passes slow. I've now been in this dump for an entire month. A month since my Dad - was killed.

I stare out at the rumbling sky, the natural grey finally matching my mood and vision. Nothing had colors anymore for me. I was just sad and lonely and - I felt this phantom ache in my heart. A hole - it stretches bigger and blacker every so often and I wonder how long it will take until it consumes me entirely.

A loud humping on the door scares me to reality. Gator comes flying in with Bendy and Rag's on his heels along with ten other kids who I don't really care to nickname.

"What?"

He lets out a rattily breath, I swear the boy smokes, "Old gu - guy! Downstairs! Mabel's comin' to get you!"

Rags shoves him aside and grabs me by my shirt. "How come?" She hisses, spit flying on my face.

I grimace and wipe it away. "How come what, you dumb cow?" I say, my mood going from bleak to angry.

"How come you get to escape!" She looks ready to throw me out of a window.

I smirk at her, just because it makes her mad. "I'm spoiled remember?"

She throws me against the wall and I laugh humorlessly. Maybe I'll go with the old guy just to spite them all.

I look up ready to taunt her some more, to taunt all of them but then - the haunted look on their faces and the water blurring Rag's eyes stops me.

My heart's hole spreads painfully.

"S'not fair. . . " Bendy mutters and looks away. "We've been here forever - anyone who takes me sends me back - s'not fair."

Gator looks gaunt, his thin shoulders sag, making him look like a sad scarecrow. "Lucky."

Rags scoffs. "I hope you die on your way out."

I stand, anger simmering as I grit my teeth. "Back off Rags."

The floor starts to shake. The kids scrabble away from the door as Mabel throws it open, her beady eyes scan the room to pick me out. "There you are." She says, short and bitter - like it's my fault somehow that this is her pathetic life.

"What?" I snap back, defiant.

"There's a Taker downstairs, although God only knows why he would want you - come on, don't waste my time." She says, annoyance leaking down her words.

I obey silently for once and follow the massive woman out, feeling oddly uncomfortable as everyone watches me go. Mabel makes it downstairs before I do and starts talking to the guy waiting near the front door.

I don't know why but - the prospect of going home with someone was suddenly horrifying and I was half tempted to run back up these stairs and hide - but I know they'd eat me alive if I did that. My heart gives a tight squeeze as I slowly walk down, one foot at a time, each foot heavier than the last and -

And I catch sight of a average looking man, older, maybe in his late forties with an old looking trilby hat in his hands.

"She's comin' down. Now - I don't really expect this arrangement to last for longer than a week so -" Mabel starts and sniffs, "If you send her back - make sure you let us know three days ahead." She sounds so sure about this failing.

A trill of defiance runs through me. I'll show her.

"Thank you," The mans calm voice answers. "But I'm sure we'll be fine." He sound sure.

I swallow and walk to the end. His eyes flicker up and catch me and I stop. His smile is warm and friendly and - I haven't seen anything so inviting in so long -

His eyes wrinkle with crows feet, glowing a soft cornflower blue as he regards me with kindness - not revulsion like I was afraid he would.

"Hello there Ms. Flores." His smile stays warm as he reaches a hand to me.

I swallow again and reach my small hand to shake. "Hi." I feel like a kid again when his big hand wraps around mine and shakes. It 's warm and kind of rough - like he works with them all the time.

Mabel huffs behind me and shoves a bag in my arms. "Good day to you both." She says the words like someone is stabbing her.

I ignore her and look at my feet as the man puts his trilby back on top of his greying head and opens the ugly door for me, the sun outside suddenly very bright to my eyes - where'd the gray go?

"After you little Ms." He smiles again and tips his hat at Mabel whi sniffs in answer.

I nod and slowly walk out, he follows out then leads the way to a silver Toyota pick up - it looks old and a bit worn but - even though it wasn't even close to the same thing as Dad's old Cadillac - it tugged at my heart, it felt familiar.

A loud bang makes me turn around to see Crooked Nose cursing at someone on the other side before he turns to me - his muddy eyes and yellow hair looking almost bright under the odd burst of sun out here.

His boney shoulders hunch over as he hops closer.

I wait for a snarky comment.

"Good luck." He mutters. Not looking at me.

I blink.

"Thanks?"

His lips twist up into a broken sort of smile. "This is your shot. Don't blow it."

And that's when I realize - they all want out - they were all just a bunch of sad, broken lonely kids that didn't know what else to do except be as mean to others as the world is to them.

I swallow. "Yah."

Then I open the trucks doors, throwing a glance his way before climbing up the huge vehicle and sliding into the seat.

"Bye Crooked Nose." I say, my voice flat.

His face twists up into a snort and a smirk. "Good riddance Shrimpy."

I don't let him see my smirk as the truck roars to life and pulls away from the curb. The wretched boy and the ugly house becoming smaller and smaller with each passing second.

I don't think I'll miss anything over there.

"So - Ms. Flores, it's nice to meet you."

I jump, forgetting the man I am with is still a stranger. I turn my dark eyes at him and don't say anything. What do you say to a guy you don't know?

"I'm Mort Skilton." He says, voice still calm and gentle.

I nod. "Nice to meet you Mr. Skilton." What else was there to say. I don't know who this guys is I don't know why he's taken me in and I don't know if this is a good thing or not.

He smiles at me, eyes staying on the road. "Don't worry Little Ms. I'm sure you're going to be fine with us."

"Who are you?" I blurt suddenly, not his name, him him. Who was he?

He chuckle, the sound low and comfortable. "I suppose you wouldn't know would you."

We pull up to a red light and he takes the moment to look at me, cornflower colored eyes sparkling. "I'm your fathers half brother."

I can't do anything but stare.