Chloe Monica Simona

"Don't worry," she had cooed. "We won't hurt you."  She spoke like she was addressing a small, scared animal.  I could almost see the cat treat in her extended hand.  She was reaching towards me, and, much like an animal, I inched away.  I wasn't so much afraid of her hurting me, but rather the other way around.  Her hubby stood beside her, rolling his eyes and his arms crossed over his plaid shirt.  He looked impossibly bored with the situation, like she had reached out to raggedy-looking teens and invited them closer on a daily basis.  I didn't like his smell...it was very, what was the word?  Smoky?  He had the air around him, like an old cigarette's smell, but there was something else that I couldn't quite place...whatever it was, it made my nose itch.  That should have been my first clue about him...

"Hi," I remember whispering shyly, reluctantly inching towards her.  I almost extended my hand to shake hers, but...well, I didn't want to make a bad impression on her husband...he seemed to have a strong distrust for me already.  He had a good sense of character.  

"What's your name?" she asked, her eyes conveying how thrilled she was that I was talking to her.

"My name?"  I left that behind when I left...I decided to change it. "Chloe."  I had always wanted that name...

"Would you like to come inside?" she offered, gesturing to the front of the house.  Well, the garage door was hurting my back...and the rain was making me cold...as much as my better self ordered me to stay, her encouraging nod gave me new hope.  With a smile, I nodded and followed her in.  

"Do your parents know you're gone?" she asked, leading me to the kitchen table and gesturing for me to sit down as she went to make some hot cocoa.  

"They're dead," I whispered bitterly, refusing to meet her husband's eyes.  He continued to glare at me, like it was my fault his wife was so nice.  

"Oh," she gasped.  

I'm sorry, could you give me a minute?  I know that you want me to remember this as best I can, but it's difficult...

Anyway, I ended up living with them for a little while.  Mary and Todd were their names, and they took me under their wings...They had always wanted kids, but Todd was sterile...so Mary tried implantation, or whatever it's called...succeeded...until the fifth month.  They just gave up after that; thought they didn't deserve kids or something.  Apparently, I was some sort of sign.  I left out the part where I was the one who killed both of my parents...

I'm going to skip over all of the minor details of us growing together, since I was around fifteen when we met...but then came my seventeenth birthday...they learned pretty quickly why I never high-fived them or anything of the sort...my hands were "magical," and I wished so badly that I was like the bibbidi bobbidi boo type...

See, they had gotten me this amazing cake and fancy party to celebrate my age.  They weren't that well-off to begin with, so this was a huge deal.  I shouted a thanks and, without thinking, threw my arms around Mary...she dropped like a stone.  Even more terrified of me than he had been, Todd backed away slowly and bolted out of the house.  I was close behind, but went in a completely different direction.  I couldn't be...back...I called it "being back" because I hadn't done anything like that since, well, since I had parents...you wouldn't believe how quickly news people get to a house to cover it.  I'm now suspect number one, and that, dear diary, is why I have to burn you.  

The End

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