Coming home? [Cameo, Brit]

[*]

"Deja? Sweetheart. You're going to have to talk to them whether you like it or not. You're brother is there. I know what you went through was hard, but that's overwith now. You are safe. Ms. Camille is a nice lady. Very sweet. You'll really like her, okay?"

"I don't trust her... I don't trust anyone." I whisper out. My voice sounds so far away as we walk to where we are suppose to be. My legs feel heavy, almost as if I've been drugged against and my whole body just feels useless. I'm not used to this. It's been so long since I...

"Deja. Do you see the house? That's where we're going. Now perk up, child. You are going to do fine." The lady touches me with her hand on my back, but I've learned not to coil away from the touch of someone that is trying to help me. Until I can trust someone though, there isn't going to be no safety where I'm going. I know you're just trying to help... but I'm scared. Really scared. You understand right? You understand I'm weak. I can't fight them if they hurt me.

Fear fills me up. The closer we walk to the house, my backpack on my back and this tiny little fluffy toy in my hand feels like it's starting to weight a ton and right before we get to the door, the breath that was in my lungs halt and for some reason all I see is the dollhouse. Fight it! Don't let it win, Deja. This... isn't...

The dark haired lady knocks on the door and I feel my back press up against the banister on the porch. The backpack keeps the banister from digging into my back, but the solid peice of mass keeps me from turning and running from this place. What's inside, Mrs. Rose? Please, tell me there is no dolls. Please tell me there are no cages... no needles. No drugs. I can't do that again.

Bile starts to seep up into my throat when the sound of footsteps comes to the front door and when the door creaks open, I close my eyes immediately. No! Don't hurt me. Don't put me back under the house. Don't make me unable to move to my own bidding.

"Hello, Camille La'Vie. I'm Mrs. Rose. I have an addition to your household. I know it's early, but we had to head out early this morning from the healer in town. I do hope I wasn't interrupting anything?"

Very slowly, I peel my eyes open and have a look at the woman that will be my foster mother for the time being. From what I was told, is that I might or might not stay here for a while. It all depends on when a permanent home comes available or someone might be willing to adopt me and my brother. You mustn't get seperated from Quincy. You have to stay with him. Lady - you will never seperate me and my brother. He's mine. You hear me?

"Deja. Say hello to Ms. La'Vie." She urges and slowly I open my mouth to say something, but nothing but a cracking sound errupts and I turn my head away from them immediately to conceal myself from these people. "Deja! Ms. La'Vie, I'm sorry. She's been through a lot in the last few days."

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

If only I could say I wake up bright and early. No, my brain is still prewired to activate before the sun even rises. Four years ago I had to push myself out of bed at this hour to prepare breakfast, and quickly create a lesson plan for my class. There was hardly enough hours in the day back then, making slumber a rarity. Now that I’m not working three jobs, I find myself refusing to let go of that old schedule. Instead I awake at the exact same time, just with a much better attitude, and no rush in my step.

This morning for instance, there’s absolute silence. No children laughing, or fighting. No baby screaming for attention. As much as I love every single one of them, I do appreciate these few moments, especially now that a sorrow’s roaming around the house.

Yesterday, the Hunger Games took the one that saved this home. It feels so wrong that the Capitol could take such a good person. This district, and Panem, is already cruel enough. But somehow I have to manage a smile anyways; this home cannot lose that to. I have to stay strong for my kids, and for Prism. Which is exactly why we’re having the best breakfast today, French toast.

Plus I always try for a special meal whenever we get someone new. Right before Prism was shipped to the Capitol, he directed a new little girl to my home. I promised to welcome any child he sends my way, no matter how many he finds. This one must be saved as his going away wish.

Right as I begin cracking the eggs, there’s a knock at the door. Probably best that she arrives before the chaos awakes. Immediately I’m rushing to the door with a cloth to clean my hands simultaneously. As much as I’d love to prank the kids with an eggy doorknob, it’s likely not a good idea with a social worker coming in.

“Morning.” I greet with a light smile, staring upon the sunrays creeping up, as I try to patiently wait for Mrs. Rose to finish speaking. Why are they always so sickly polite? “Not at all, just making breakfast before the youngsters get up.” And they’re always assuming there’s something more important to be doing then welcoming in a new kid.

The small redhead has her back up against the porch, and eyes sealed shut. Must be scared as hell. She eventually gets around to peaking beyond her closed lids, cautiously as if something might happen if she reacts too quickly. What has she gone through? And far too soon Mrs. Rose is pressing for her to talk, apologizing when she can hardly part her lips.

“Don’t worry about it.” I say calmly to the both of them. “She’ll talk when she wants to.” Whenever I’m assigned a new kid, they become one of mine instantly, no matter what. “Come in.” I invite them both in with a nudge of my head. Can never tell when they want to simply drop of the little ones, or stay for an eternity.

[*]

There is something weird about the woman in front of me. Something about that smile or her tone is offsetting. Annabelle had a sweet disposition before she took me to her father whom I had met previously and did the one thing that has me absolutely terrified right now. I don't want to walk into a new house. New houses are nothing but danger. Run! Get out while you can... while you can still walk. While you can still move for yourself. Get away from here. An internal voice screams at me so vividly. How can I get that voice to shut up?

Mrs. Rose shakes her head at me from what I can see after she apologizes for my inability to speak nor the want to extract the voice that could possibly deem me 'perfect' for one of her special kids. Maybe... just maybe, if I don't talk, she'll lose interest in me? What if I don't do everything she asks and she gives up and finds someone new? Someone better? There we go. The plan... don't talk. You are not allowed to say one word to her. No matter how hard she tries.

"Now, she's not eaten anything this morning. I tried on the way over here, but she'd have nothing of it, Ms. La'Vie." I listen to the woman talk as if I wasn't even there, but I can't muster up enough courage to try to defend myself. Silence. Silence will protect you. In response to the social worker, I can shake my head just a little bit, almost as if I'm denying her words. It's not that I don't want food, it's just the simple fact that I have to make it myself. I feel the absolute need to make sure that nothing is funny about it.

"Don't worry about it. She'll talk when she wants to. Come in." The new foster lady nods her head and offers us entrance into her home but the social worker is first in before I even take a step closer to the front door. My eyes are scanning hard for anything unusual, but it seems to look like just a regular house and a regular family like atmostphere.

"I brought you all her paperwork and if you'll look through it, it'll better guide you through the update. Is there anywhere we can privately talk?"

I tense up my eyebrows and see Mrs. Rose look at me and turn in my direction and reaching her hand to smooth out my hair as she bends over to look me in the eyes. My gaze shifts quickly as she gives me a warm, quick smile.

"Don't leave me here." I whisper solely to her. I don't want the other woman to hear me cause I really don't want to hurt her feelings but what am I suppose to do? You've been lied to. Hurt. Manipulated? Will this lady hurt me? Will I end up another puppet in this place. Mrs. Rose, I'm frightened! I plead to the woman with open eyes but she pats me on the cheek and raises back up and looks to Ms. La'Vie. She even leads the way to the living room looking place and she makes a motion for me to sit down on a random chair.

"Shall we Camille?" She changes all of a sudden to a first name basis with her.

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

It's nice to witness a caring social worker, as Mrs. Rose even steps in before Deja to get a feel of the place. Ever since Prism came along, this home has been nothing impressive; warm colors paint every room, sweet pictures and occasional paintings decorating the walls. Everything I had dreamed of since I can remember. A comforting environment for any youth. "Make yourself at home." I attempt to welcome the young one more, hopefully convince her this is a safe house. Especially since Mrs. Rose then wants to take it into another room for a moment.

A light sigh escapes from my lungs. I hate when another adult makes a youngster feel less-then. "Of course." I play along anyways. Must we, I want to roll my eyes like a child myself, but I don't. "We'll only be a moment, Deja." I consult her since Mrs. Rose leaves her with a bewildered expression. There's no telling what she's thinking.

"This one comes from a shaky past, but someone insisted that she came here." Mrs. Rose explains in a hushed, yet chipper, tone. "If you have any problems give us a call." I swear I get this warning for more then half the children that come through those doors. Never fail to find a way through each of them. I only lightly smile though, with no concern whatsoever. Prism sent her here for a reason.

"I'm sure they'll be no issues. Not to worry." I reassure, and with that Mrs. Rose doesn't waste a second to return to Deja. Some private talk.

There is obvious signs that Mrs. Rose cares about this young redhead though. The way she couldn't walk away until knowing this is a safe place, the kind goodbye she gives before leaving. "This is a good place Deja, you'll be fine. I'll check in." She promises before closing the door behind her.

"Want to help me with breakfast?" I ask with a gesture to follow. Can at least try to get to know Deja a little before the crew gets up. The stove gets turned on, and I crack the rest of the eggs. "You must like french toast, right?" Might as well start with the small talk, no point in scaring the young girl. Milk and cinnamon get mixed with the eggs, before I begin dipping the bread to throw in some pans. Would of sworn I cook for an army, yet we never seem to have leftovers.

"I heard your brother lives with us, Quincy? You'll be in the room next to his." Best way to comfort someone new, actually give them something comforting. I occasionally glance over to the youngster to see how she's doing, though I concentrate on breakfast to avoid making her feel pressured. Certainly she'll realize this place is safe eventually.

[*]

That's the chair that will start this whole process. Once I sit down, it'll be one step away from becoming another victim. How many kids does this lady have in his huge house? How many kids are she keeping prisoner in this place? Five? Ten? Will I be this new addition like the last time? You have to get out. Just run. You can make it. How do you even know Quincy is really here in this house? What proof is there? I plead with Mrs. Rose when she disappears in with the new lady, Ms. La'Vie. There's only a slight bit of comfort being here, but I can't get used to this place. I want mom and dad back. I want my home back. I want my rabbit, Summy. I want to go home...

For a moment, I blackout. My vision fades slowly away and I see nothing but my past. The horrific images that I remember when I was under the influence of those drugs, when I couldn't move. If breathing wasn't an automatic thing I'm sure it would have effected that as well and I would have suffocated. Luckily, that power to breath and my own thoughts were my own. I survived somehow so I have to survive this, too.

My head saunters backward suddenly, hitting the wall behind me and causes my senses to catch up to me. There I am. Sitting in this chair, in this quiet house surrounded by potted plants in this makeshift type of living room. Above me is a loft like quarters for people to sit on. It overlooks this living room and for a quick moment, I swear I think I saw something dart away from sight. They are here to watch you as the new girl. Don't let anyone take you anywhere. You have to be safe. You have to get Quincy out of this place. He needs you, Deja. I lean up in the chair and try to angle my head to the side to see if I can see further into the upstairs loft, but the person is gone.

Vanished.

Not a sound. Not even footsteps echo in the hallways. I can already tell I don't like this place. It's too quiet. Too dangerous to live here with shadows that dance through the hallways. Why is it quiet? Everyone is caged. They are locked up and away from sight? Does Mrs. Rose know this... you better tell her. You can't let her leave you here.

"This is a good place Deja, you'll be fine. I"ll check in." The woman's voice jerks me out of my trance but then I quickly realize that she doesn't want to stay at all. She don't stop to hug me. She don't even want to. By the time she reaches the door, she gives me a quaint little wave and then the doors shut just like that.

Fear runs down my back. Something jolts me from my spine and makes my fingertips tingle with a cold like acid that seeps into my bones, chilling me to the core of my soul. I'm stuck here. This will be my prison. This is my new home...

"Want to help me with breakfast? You must like french toast, right?" Why is she offering me food when I've just arrived? Is this a way to get to me? Is she just like Annabelle?

I shake my head 'no'. My eyes are hurtful and I feel the bile rising up into my throat that I force back down. If Quincy is here, I have to stay strong to get him out while I can. No one should have to keep us anywhere but our own home.

I walk with the woman though, staring at her as if she was my real enemy even though I've known her for a maximum of twenty minutes. In the kitchen, I stand beside here. My hands to my sides and my feet together. My lips never part, but I watch her every move. What is she going to put in the toast? What ingredients is she putting in there? I'm so careful about watching her that I don't even notice the happening around the house. The sounds of footsteps are drowned out by the pounding in my ears of my own heartbeat that feels like a war drum.

"I heard your brother lives with us, Quincy? You'll be in the room next to his."

"Why?" I question her suddenly, and my voice sounds like a meek little mouse being caught and intimidated by someone thrice my size. "Why can't I be in the same room with him? Where is he? I want to see him... please?" I beg her, now arching my eyebrows upward in an innocent way, pleading with her to help me out and to let me see my brother. I just want to see him. "Why do you keep him here? Is he free to leave if he wants? Me, too? Do I have to stay here?"

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

It'd be so easy to simply lean over and take a peek at that file. Figure out what it is that's keeping this young girl so quiet and timid. But I don't want to understand her that way. If I can get her to open up and talk, that'd probably be a whole lot better. Besides, i'm not going to belittle her with reading about her while I cook right here. Certainly there's far more going on then what's written down on those papers. Bet it'd be a whole lot clearer coming from her. Even if she's only going to stand off to the side without a sound. Only the first day.

Pretty crazy the things that people put through our youth, sickening even. Big reason to why I have to keep this home standing. I have to help as many kids as I can. Slowly I prepare the breakfast, enjoying the silence of the early morning. "Huh?" I question after finally get Deja to communicate.

Is she wondering why her brother also lives her? Or why she's placed in the room next to his? Now it doesn't take long for the small redhead to express what's crossing her mind. Nice to hear there's someone she cares about. "He's probably still sleeping. I'm sure he'll be down soon." Perhaps knowing that she's allowed to sort of sleep in will win her offer, never know with each individual. "It's hardly six." I share with a quick glance at the clock above the stove, 6:07.

"And you have to share a room with someone of the same gender. I'm sorry, sweetie." I explain with a comforting grin, flipping the toast that's now filling the house with a nice aroma.

Deja then questions their freedom here, and whether she can leave. The truth always slides out somehow, and that explains a nice chunk. "Well you guys need a caretaker, but I'm not keeping you hostage. There is a curfew." I attempt to play off the worry she may hold. It's pretty average here. "If you two want to find another foster home you can. Give it a couple of days though, you might like it here." The power of control can be as comforting as anything, and that's all I can offer at the moment. Only thing that might calm this one. Soon enough I start stacking the french toast on a plate, for the hungry children that will be storming down at any minute.

[*]

There is no time related moments when inside of a house. There's no reason that the lights outside can give you the exact time. For months at a time, I was forced into a cage and brought out to play only on certain days. No direct sunlight touched my face until the day that I somehow escaped that hellish prison. So, when she said that all the kids were still sleeping, can that reallly be a truth? Deny it. Don't you hear the voices up the stairs? The quiet murmurings of something?

"Huh?" My voice goes unnoticed as she declares a need for me to resay what I've already said. I don't stop and repeat for her to catch up. I only increase my questions until she tries to answer them all. There has to be answers and I have to be able to agree with those answers before I'll ever trust her.

"He's probably still sleeping. I'm sure he'll be down soon. It's hardly six." As if I don't beleive her at all, I turn my head around in each direction until I can see a clock and sure enough, she's telling the truth. One point for you. I nod slowly and try to understand her though. Why wake Quincy when he's still sleeping but the thing is... does he even know that I"m alive? It's been months since I've seen him. I've grown a whole new year older since I last saw him. Does he even realize I'm thirteen now? Does he even care? I need to know more about mom and dad. Why can't this lady go wake him up?

"Okay." I meekly whisper out as she starts to tell me something else about regulations. She says that I"m not allowed to room with my own flesh and blood? I've been caged in the basement of a house with different ages and genders for months... there's nothing that I've not seen before. They were strangers... Relax. Don't ruin this. If you do, then she might keep him from you. Calm down.

Again, I nod my head and to pacify her and me, I drop my eyebrows down and cower slightly to the woman, letting her know of my defeat. I'm not a strong person and I don't think I could physcially try to get out of here. If I do they will just send me back.

The smell of the food that she's making makes my stomach growl, but instead of saying anything, I only let my hand go to my stomach with a hunger pang and move to sit down on the chair by the table. What she answers next has my ears perking upward and she has my full attention.

So I'm not a hostage? I'm not a prisoner here? How sure are you? Are you just tellling me this to make me stay and do what you want cause I wont hesitate to run. I will take Quincy and leave if you try to make us stay.

"Yes'm." I say in responce, drawing one leg up and under my chin, leaving the other to touch the ground. It's control. I can feel the ground and I am making myself comfortable. So far, the woman seems to understand me. So far, she seems like someone I can trust, but I can only hope that I'm right. I don't want to be wrong again. "I wanna talk to Quincy." I draw out with a long sentence.

My growing need to talk to my brother is out there again. I'm hoping that she will understand. "It's been months. I miss him. I miss my mom and dad. I don't like it here. It isn't home." I feel tears starting to come to meet my eyes but I push them away with a gentle swipe from my sleeve and let my eyes lower to the ground and my cheek rests against my knee. "I just wanna go home, Ms. La'Vie."

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

Urgently Deja is searching around for the time, with absolutely no faith that I'm providing the truth. So she's used to being lied to, another piece of valuable information. I point over to the clock, and sure enough she relaxes just slightly. Guess this one has a 'guilty until proven innocent' type of motto. And perhaps I've gained a little trust? It's always 50/50 on whether a kid's going to like me. But her expression calms a tad, and she finds enough comfort to take a seat by the table. She doesn't speak of food though, while her gestures express nothing but hunger.

Wanting to treat her just like any other child here, I fix her up a plate with two pieces of the french toast and some fruit. The social worker did say she hasn't eaten anything this morning after all. Syrup gets placed down as well, and I return to the kitchen island to let her eat without any staring eyes. Might as well clean this mess before everyone creates an even bigger one. "Do you want anything to drink Deja? Juice? Milk?" I offer while wiping down the crumb-filled counters.

Again the small Redhead is pressing to see her brother. Could of sworn she was good with letting him sleep a minute ago, but she's probably just extremely scared. "He'll probably be down soon, but you can go wake him up if you want." It's the only thing I can suggest, and perhaps simply knowing she holds that power will make her feel better. "I've learned my lesson with waking him up early." I attempt to joke with a light grin.

"Pretty sure his alarm is set to 6:15. How about we both drag him out of bed if he's not down by 6:30?" And like always, I go for more humor.

Doesn't seem to help though, as Deja then tenses up from her bottled up emotions. She misses her old life, and expresses that it's been months since things were normal. What has she been put through in that time gap? I slowly travel across the kitchen to sit down at the breakfast-table across from her. "Sweetie. Quincy told me your parents died in an accident." I share in a very comforting tone, the one that's always evoked during sorrowful news. "You have to stay here for now. But you might find that you like it. If not I'll help you two find a place that you'd fit better into." Of course it's not what I'd prefer, but giving the youth control seems to be the best solution the majority of the time. Have to at least try and show her there's no threat here.

[*]

To control my emotions is easier said then to be done. I've done nothing but cry and live in fear for so long it just is a natural thing. I feel desperate and scared to be here with somone I don't know. My cheek is pressed against my knee when I hear Ms. La'Vie doing something and makes my eyes move over to her as she scoops up two peices of the food that she just prepared and puts them on the table along with some butter and syrup. This commodity looks familar, but the food that I've been given was scarce and only available during meal times when it was playtime. Sometimes it would be a couple times a day to get a scrap or two or I remember a handful of times when I would go a day without food before Annabell would come back down to play. That was the darkest of my times. Laying in the cage with hunger pangs that would try to eat away at me and make me feel sick. The feeling always intensified when the drug was administered.

"Just water." I state when asked if I want a certain type of drink. I wasn't allowed those sorts of drinks like that but I've gotten used to water. It was life saving in my torture chamber. I've grown to need it more than the air that I breath, I conclude. "I'll get it though." I add in, my voice coming out just a tab bit harsh but very quiet and I get up from the chair. My travel to the cupboard is slow but I make my way to the cabinet that I had seen her grab something out of only moments ago and reach in for a glass and then fill it only half full before returning to my chair to look at the food that's been placed before me.

The pang in my stomach has risen with the smell of the food wafting into my nose but do I eat it? I quickly let my eyes dart upward to the woman to see if she's watching me - waiting for me to take that first bite but she don't. She's not watching. Why is she not watching? A trick? Could it be a trick? Smell it first. Is it tainted? Slowly, I take the fork and take a very small edge of the hot food to my nose, smelling the sweet aroma of the cinnamon. It's safe... I think. I'm so hungry.

I let the morsal touch my tongue and it feels my body up with a type of comfort. Something to hit my stomach, but once that small bite is gone, I lay my fork down and ask about my brother again and let some of my past out but in a needy way. Once again, she tries to console me by telling me that by a certain time, we'll go get him if he hasn't woken up yet. Darting to the clock, I see the time, calculate how much time I have before that happens and then nod. "Twenty-three minutes." I state out loud, just in case she didn't do it herself.

"Sweetie. Quincy told me your parents died in an accident. You have to stay here for now. But you might find that you like it. If not I'll help you two find a place that you'd fit better into."

"I know." I whisper out and put my hands into my lap. The way she tries to tell me that I can go to another place isn't what I want. If she's right, all that will happen is they'd place me and Quincy in a new home. Won't be your home. It'll be some other place. It'll be some run down place with kids kicking and screaming. Your best bet is to stay as long as she is not lieing to you. As long as she don't hurt you...

"Do you have a basement?" I question her all of a sudden. My eyes lift up to her, slowly looking her in the eyes and watching for any type of movement from her that would suggest unease or her responce to go away from my question. She's going to think you're crazy asking questions like that...

"Nineteen." I whisper under my breath as my eyes go to search the clock once more.

[Arrows]

<>Quincy Hatcher<>

"Quincy, why won't you help us Quincy? Please Quincy save us, do something. You don't want us to die do you Quincy? Why do you want us to die? Don't you love us? We thought you loved us? I guess we were wrong, you can't possibly love us." My heart beat races at the speed of a lightning bolt as my fists pound uselessly against the glass windows of the burning car. My parents look at me ashamed since I can't save them since there is nothing I can do. I am only a single person. I am all alone. "I love you I do love you! I can't get in it won't break!" I scream as the tears rush down in rivers upon my cheeks. That is when the car exploded in a massive inferno, consuming my parents whole.

I shoot straight up in my bed and send my sheets flying off of my body as my heart continues to race. I search frantically around my room for the burning car that won't be there. My entire body shakes painfully as I shakily get to my feet only to fall uselessly down to my knees. My silent sobs shake my chest as tears streak across my face. These nightmares are constant reminders of how utterly helpless I am. Of how alone I truly am in this desolate world.

Only after several minutes of sobbing do I finally find the strength to get to my feet. The bitter dream is fading leaving my body its usual dull and numb feeling. My feet drag across the wooden floor as I open the door of my room. The aroma of sweet syrup and delicious baked foods ascend softly into my nose. I let out a long sigh as I imagine the wonderful things Camille has prepared for breakfast this time. I just wish I still had the power to speak up and tell her... but I don't, that part of me, along with so much of my past self, never came back.

I walk quietly through the hall way so I don't wake any of the other sleeping children. My hand pulls on the brass knob that leads into the shared bathroom. I waste no time turning the shower on and hopping inside of it. The warm water rushes over my head and down my body. It's warmth helps relieve me from the chilling grief of the nightmare that still lingers ominously. My hands still shake even though steam floats through the small room. I should be warm yet inside I still feel cold. Even the warmest of waters cannot unfreeze my frozen soul.

After several minutes of sulking in the shower I turn the flow off and I make my way back to my room. The smells of breakfast still dance happily through the room as I pull on my clothes. A simply red t-shirt, a pair of grey sweats, and my usual pair of white running shoes. I can still remember a time when I use to dress so much more openly, but now I keep my individualism locked away. I don't know why I do but it just seems to make everything easier that way.

The sound of silverware and Camille's voice echo through my ears as I walk quietly down the stairs. By the time I reach the bottom the sound of a new voice arrives. My head tilts to the side as I see a small girl talking with Camille. I guess a new kid is joining the home by the way Camille is talking to her. I wonder what this girl's story is, yet I would never dare ask for I know that some things are left better unspoken and better unsaid.

As I walk into the kitchen area with my mouth locked shut as usual I really get a better look at the young girl now. That was when I stopped. Everything froze as my hands balled into fists and my body shook lightly. I squished my eyes closed as tightly as I could trying to control my heavy breathing but it was of no use. All the disbelief and pain returned to me in a tidal wave of misery. Even my anger came boiling to the surface. How could she do this? How could she come back now? How the hell could she leave me alone? "No..." my voice says trailing off lightly, "No...."

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

Life finally begins to emerge upstairs. I can hear the soft patter of feet above us, alarm clocks ringing from various rooms, a shower turning on. It's not like Deja's quiet voice is capable to drowning out the noises of morning routines. Now I watch her just slightly. Casually glancing down to see that she's only taken a microscopic bite of the french toast. Did I make it wrong? Or is the topic of her parents off setting? Guessing it's the latter given she quickly changes the subject after expressing that she's aware of it all. That is more logical, I am a fantastic chef after all.

Out of everything, she wonders if there's a basement in this place. "Gosh, I hope not." I begin to act a bit worried, with arched in eyebrows and a concerned tone. "I specifically ask for a home with no basement." I do have a gruesome reputation of being a scaredy cat towards the smallest things. Then stupidly daring for the things most adults wouldn't ever do. My way of staying young perhaps.

"Though it is time for the annual check." I pat the edge of the table gently before getting up. Only one closet around here, and I waste no time to open it. "Okay, good. Still a pantry." Pretty big relieve that no one secretly installed an underground room. I have no interest in one. Too many horror stories. Though I'm really not as much of a scaredy cat as the kids will say...

On my way back I grab a stack of plates to set on the counter, and spot the first to come down. "Hey Quincy." I great while noticing that reaction Deja had not too long ago. Definitely siblings. "Everything okay?" I question with worry dripping from my pitch. Bad enough that I have Deja freaking out. Still it's nothing that I can't handle.

Wanting to keep everything as mellow as possible, I fix him a plate just like his sister's and nudge my head towards the breakfast table. "Our friend Prism found Deja, and she's going to be staying with us. Isn't that great?" Can only hope that he's simply going through shock. Probably assumed that he's lost all of his family. He should be happy? "Hungry?" Just incase, we can pray that it's something french toast can easily settle.

[*]

A basement is probably one of the worst things I can think of. It harbours secrets. It harbours things that people want to keep hidden. If there is a basement here, the point gets taken off. I make the conclusion right then and there. No basement means I will feel safe enough to stay here. What can't be hidden can only be out in the open. With ever fiber of nerves that are starting to calm down, they rise until I know the answer.

"Gosh, I hope not." She states as if the question offended her or she was merely trying to defend herself. Her tone also sounds trustworthy, so maybe she's telling the truth? Doesn't matter. When you are alone, you will search yourself. Leave no stone unturned. My head gently nods forward two times before coming to a rest yet again, with my hands in my lap as I take in the smell of the toast below my nose. It may have only been a tiny bite, but if it held anything funny on it, I will not be under the poison's spell. Just gotta give it time to work. I hope this woman is going to be alright. I don't want to start all over again somewhere new.

She pats the table and and goes in search of the only door in the kitchen to check it, and she jokingly teases me to say it's still just a pantry. That alone makes my lips turn upward into a wavering smile before it dissappears yet again. Comedian? Give her a chance...

From somewhere behind me, I hear the footsteps come into the kitchen but the moment that I watch Ms. La'Vie grab the plates and sit them on the counter, is when I hear the voice. Then, I hear his name. Quincy! Thank God! My head jerks quickly. My red hair fans out and then falls over my shoulder the moment I turn to see the boy standing in the doorway to the kitchen. His short dark hair isn't how he used to keep it. It was always kept a little longer, enough to run his hand through it and it would sometimes stick straight up if he was sweating from playing outside with me. He looks much thinner than before, too. What happened to you Quincy?

"Quincy..." I mutter, feeling my heart pound heartily against my chest and my lips purse together while my eyes start to produce a salty solution pooling quickly. Even through the tears, I can see his shocked face. Didn't anyone tell you I was coming? I'm alive! I got out!... why wasn't you the one to find me? My heart finally wins over my muscles and I get up out of the chair quickly and cross the kitchen with my arms at my sides until I get nearer to him and I raise my arms up. I want nothing more than to have that contact with my brother again. I will never hug my parents again, but Quincy is still alive. He's all I have now. He's the last one who will ever truly trust me and believe me with what I went through. Joy overtakes me as I outstretch my arms to hug him. "Quincy...! I thought I'd never see you again..."

Never let him go. Never leave me again Quincy. Please. I beg you. Don't let me disappear again. If you love me at all, don't turn your back on me again and leave me to rot!

[Arrows]

<>Quincy Hatcher<>

It hurt more than a thousand tracker jackers pulsing their poison through his heart. It was more blindsiding than two hover crafts flying straight into my body. How could she do this to him? How could after all the pain and suffering he had been thrown into how could she come back now. How did she deserve to just waltz back into his life whenever she damn wanted to. She had no right, she had no damn right. She couldn't just toy with him however she wanted. She abandoned him plain and simple.

He could feel his body tensing and beginning to shake as her eyes looked at him. He had to control himself not to latch out and punch her for the foolish way she did this to him. Quincy bit his lip as the visions of him alone at the court house being sent off into a system of loneliness. She dared to do that to him. She dared to let him spend his darkest hours alone. How could she condemn him to such a horrible fate, a fate worse than death itself.

What Deja dared to do next truly set the fire that was burning away the man Quincy use to be ablaze. Deja opening her arms and running towards him was equivalent to a wild beast looking to rip his heart out. He could never let her close to his heart again. He could never let her just snuggle up beside him and sleep the nights away under the stars like the old days. No, all of those past days had been swept away in one hellish tempest that left scorch marks on the very essence of his soul.

Tears were beginning to really well up against the dam walls that were Quincy's eyes. Yet he would not let them spring forth again. He vowed long ago during his vow of silence and pain that he would not shed another tear. He would not allow himself to have emotions flow fully throw his veins. From now on he would be a locked soul. One with shackles of loss that could not be broken by empty apologies and devastating hugs. She did not deserve him and he did not want her.

As her feeble arms final reached his feeble frame he wasted no time to gently shove her warmth away from his chill. His icy desolation was a sentence he had brought down upon himself alone. It was a trial he would bare alone for the rest of the years that his heart still kicked with the desire to spread blood through his body. He just wished that it would all finally freeze over soon enough like the corpses of the 69th Hunger Games.

As hard as it should have been to turn his back towards his dependent littler sister, it wasn't. In fact the heart crushing action was almost too easy. As if a serpent had been watching a mouse in the feild and finally found the perfect moment to latch down onto its prey. Quincy no longer had a sliver of warmth in his body and he knew this. The only sort of flame that wavered in his internal darkness was a flame of pain and sorrow. One that was rapidly engulfing his entire body as his shout took form into his throat.

"Stop Deja just stop it! You need to stay the hell away from me! I looked for you for so long until I couldn't anymore! Until our parents died searching for you! It was only then that I had to realize you left me alone! That I had no more family left anymore! And I still don't not even with you standing here! You aren't my sister you are just Deja the one who left me to freeze on my own!"

With his words wrecking the serenity of the room he slammed his plate of french toast onto the wooden floor with an echoing shatter. His eyes locked with Camille and his tears vanished in range. "No your stupid french toast can't solve everything! Especially not this!" With his heart hammering to the beat of a war drum Quincy vanished upstairs and to his room with a massive slam of his oak door. Here in the darkness of his room he could hide from the pain of life and be left to turn to stone.

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

All that I can ever hope to achieve from this place, is the best possible outcome. No need for perfection in any such way. Simple gradual growth that tells me I'm doing the right thing. And that brief grin I catch on Deja's lips, declares I'm doing just that. Knew everybody has a soft spot for a little bit of humor. Just took this Redhead a moment to relax, and apparently the lack of a basement does just that. Honestly, I couldn't be more relieved, despite how quickly the smirk fades. It's a step in the right direction, and that's all I can ask for.

Seems as though Deja''s mood lightens even more at the sight of her brother. A family reunion, this has to be good. Who wouldn't be happy to see their sibling under the same roof? Especially after losing their parents. Both of their eyes flutter with tears, though none trail down cheeks. "Stop guys. You're gonna make me cry." I attempt to lighten the mood, only to have no one budging from their current emotions. A subtle couch escapes my lungs as if to play off my comment. They seem to distracted anyways.

Deja reaches for her brother's comfort, and I'm certain they're finally going to reconnect. Then Quincy's resisting the hug, and begins shouting on how his sister had left her. That they searched high & low for her, only to leave him alone without parents. After a couple of months, I haven't even been able to pull that out him. I want to embrace him anyways, but his breakfast plate slams against the floor before I have a chance.

Why you have to knock the french toast? Never did anything to you.

"Uhm..." I'm truthfully at a loss for words. What am I supposed to do? Follow Quincy? Or stay with Deja? I glance at the tiny Redhead with a baffled expression. "I'm really sorry Honey." Instinctively I apologize; traveling to the hallway to the staircase, only to stop in the open doorway. I journey back to the kitchen table, completely stumped by what to do. "We'll figure this out though." I attempt to reassure, probably crossing the kitchen several times before finally stopping in the middle.

After fifteen years, plenty of drama, and all types of kids, I've never been so puzzled by what to do.

"I'm going to check on your brother...stay here for me okay? Please don't go anywhere, I'll be right back." I sigh and quickly sprint to the stairs. Not even a step is taken prior to seeing my lovely Bambi near the top. It's clear that she's passed Quincy, and is debating on whether she should try to help. She's been my longest child, and I know she can make an impact just as she has in the past. I stare at her directly in the eyes, attempting my hardest to silently communicate that she can do it, and sure enough her round youthful face turns to the direction of Quincy's room. Hard to say what I'd do without her.

Urgently I return back to the kitchen, my focus immediately going to our new arrival. "Hey buttercup...I'm sure Quincy's just in a little shock right now." Again I attempt to soothe the situation. "He hasn't been able to talk much about what happened. Probably really confused as well." Yet even to me it feels like my words aren't good enough. "Anything you want you to discuss?" I'm desperate for any kind of solution that'll make this better.

[*]

Seeing Quincy is like seeing a ghost. Someone that I never thought I would ever get to see again. Someone that I would never have to hug again. With my parents dead, he's all I have and I feel myself gravitating toward him like the opposite ends of a magnet. The pull to run to him is just nature. With arms outstretched and my voice going to him only, my heart strums heavily - waiting for this exact moment when I heard that he was still alive and well. However, the closer I got, something on his face changed. His eyes became black holes, with a glaze of liquid. His stature changed and he almost backstepped just to get away from me, but I couldn't stop. Not now. Not when I was an arm lengths away from him and at that moment, I felt his arms touch mine, but it wasn't a welomed one. That's when the magnetic pull became identical.

Instead of a hug, his arms gripped my shoulders and he gently pushes me back away from the hug. Stunned, I stumble backwards two steps until his hands no longer are touching me.

A huge burden of pain bursts through my heart. It punctures straight through me and I feel all the blood rush out and my vision swims with curiosity and fear. Quincy? What's wrong? It's me Deja. It's your sister... I'm home! I'm he...

"Stop Deja just stop it!" His voice belts out with nothing but pure anger which makes the way he pushed me away hurt even worse. My eyebrows furrow in confusion. I pull my arms inward to my body as if to protect myself like he's going to hit me or hurt me for the first time in his life. What did I do that was so wrong to him?

"Quincy..." I try to plead with him in the middle of his rant, but his voice grows over mine, or rather my voice diminishes greatly the more the words hurt that are coming from his mouth. Only when he yells at me that I'm no longer his sister, do I feel like my legs are going to give out on me. Quincy... how can you sa... I'm your sist...

"I'm not...?" I question him while my eyes fill up with a painful wall of salt, burning my eyes. I blink letting the tears cascade down my cheeks, staining them. When I open my eyes, I see him running off, and yelling something at Camille about the toast. I start shaking my head as much as I can.

"I'm sorry! I'M SORRY! QUINCY..." I beg, screaming after him. I don't even see much more because I feel completely numb inside and a tingling sensation has overcome my entire body. Standing upright has become a challege as I sway slightly and reach to the chair beside me.

"I'll be right back."

She's leaving me, too. She don't need me here. Quincy don't need me. It was a mistake. I want to go back to feeling nothing. I want to go back to the cage. That's where I'm safe... I take a seat in the chair, drawing my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around then and stare feverishly toward the ground. What do I do now?

You've got no family now. You have nothing. You were better off with Prism. You were better off left alone in the alley... why did you have to find me Prism? I can't handle losing another. Why does everyone leave me?

I halt my breath on purpose, feeling the power behind the need. With the lack of oxygen, I feel the world around me spin and only then do I let the air out and gasp silently when the foster lady comes back and starts to talk to me. Her words, I can't comprehend. Just something about wanting to discuss?

"No." I mutter in half of a breath. My eyes scan the hallway where he stood only moments ago. Is that a dream? Or was that the nightmare that I feared since I disappeared into that tiny cage? All those nightmares and all of those cold nights where the thin blanket never took the chill off the worn off drugs?

"I want to go back to my cage." I beg her, burrying my face into my knees and I shiver with a new emotion that has surfaced with the dismissal of the last person that I would ever hold dear. I am truely alone now. "I should never have left."

With that I drop my legs from the chair and stand up. "I'm sorry... I want a new home. I don't want to stay here. I don.. don't.. belong with you. I don't belong anywhere!" I feel my legs crumple and hit my knees against the ground, curling into myself and putting myself into a position like I always did when I needed to feel safe.