:Edge

Chapter one.

Most stories don’t start with a death, most of them start happily and end so. Not mine. My story started with a death. Staring down at the casket of my mother who had abused me I felt nothing, all I saw was a dead body. Not my mom. Not someone who was supposedly taking "care" of me. That bitch. She beats me half to death and the shoots up. And she dies. Leaving me in the hands of DSS. DSS! Fucking people. I hate them more than my own mother. They try to control your life, and putting you into one of those situations where they think its best for you. Fuck that.

Now staring down at her dead, pale face I felt a fresh surge of hate as my hand gripped even harder on on the casket. Her head covered by a thin mop of raven hair rested on a light pink pillow which she didnt even deserve. I was disgusted as people mourned her. People like her druggie friends, her parents were dead and gone. Only her druggies and a few other regulars she had slept with came. My dad? Your probably wondering where he is. You couldn’t ask me. I wouldn’t fucking know.

Now I would be put into a orphanage and wait around, rotting as people came and looked at us like new pets searching for that kid who just needed love. I didnt need love, I needed a car, money and a bag. So I could get the fuck out of this city. So I could leave all of this devastation behind. But where was I headed? To an orphanage of all places. You might as well stamp me as a loony now and send me of to Peaceful Acres. The place where they send all the people who have "Problems." I wondered vaugley walking away from the casket now, why my mom wasnt sent there. Easy. Because every time DSS, came around she would slip into her Super Mom suit and treat me like a "Daughter" instead of a peice of furniture that she could pack up and move around with. DSS. Disturbing Social Sanity. Fucking fuckheads.

I slammed myself into the plastic seat as the Eulogy began I stared up at the ageing Priest. Flowers were spread infront of my moms black casket. People surrounding me weeped. I stayed frozen aching for this to be over. The lights were dim and the browning wall paper annoyed me and the carpet was the grey hard stuff . Like the stuff you would find in our apartment. Or the hospital. I picked at my ripped jeans. My DSS worker sat beside me, "You must be devastated," Her voice distilling in pity. Fuck off. "Nope. Im happy that witch is dead." I didnt look up at her as I mumbled this but I could feel her eyes;shocked boring into me. Gross.

When I found her, rigid, her eyes open;glazed over, the needle laying on the floor I could have jumped for joy. I could have took her cash, the car keys, and anything I wanted and took off. But DSS came before I had the chance too. At least I had her cash. I packed my army bag full of my shit. And I was taken to the agency. I sat around eyeing crying kids and upset fathers, I was waiting to be evaulated to be put in the "proper" place. It was as if I was just a toy they would put on display. Jesus. Finally after 56 minutes and 34 seconds (I had been counting) they took me into a room. They room was small and cramped. I hated this room. It smelled like death. The window was to small for barley any air and the balding man’s ficus tree kept hitting me in the back of the head while I scribbled my information down.

They apologized for my mother, had me fill out papers and stamped me the states’. Nobody owned me. Even if the State of Massachusetts thought I was theirs they were dead fucking wrong. After the Eulogy was read and people payed they’re last respects, I leaned agisnt the door way eyeing the Priest. I felt bad for the old man. Preaching lies to all ages. I wonder if he knew. Druggies passed me with sorrow filled eyes. Boo frickity who. They just lost they’re drug horse. Sob fucking Sob.