Hungry. So hungry. Benny's not an idiot; he needs me alive so he feeds me. Not much though, one small meal a day.
Enough to get me through the day, but I still feel super weak. I can't afford to buy lunch at school, so I only get dinner.
The longer I go without eating, though, the easier it gets. Right now I haven't eaten in 20 hours; I'm gonna see if I can get to 24. It's my goal. In a way, Benny's helping me. He's always told me I was too fat, so if I can go 24 hours, I won't have to eat as much and I won't be so fat.
A/N GO EAT SOMETHING
I struggle out of bed and pull on my ragged purple t-shirt. I shuffle into the kitchen, noticing that thankfully Benny left for work already.
How he can keep down a job I have no idea. I don't know what he does for a living and frankly I don't care. As long as I have a place to sleep, I'm good.
I studied my bandaged nose in the reflection of the glass cabinet door, wondering what people will say about me now.
I don't know what rumors people will make up now, and I don't care.
I carelessly toss my backpack over my shoulder, wincing at the new bruise Benny left last night. He got more violent than usual.
As I begin my 25 minute walk to school, I try to figure out how to get out of basketball practice.
I don't think I could wave to someone, much less throw a ball, without wincing.
Finally reaching the school doors, I take a deep breath, plaster a fake smile on my face, and waltz carelessly through the entrance.
No one can know my problems. They wouldn't care anyway. They're my problems and I should be able to deal with them alone.
Halfway through third block, I get called over the intercom. "Brooke Amoretti, report to the front office. Brooke Amoretti, to the front office."
Everyone turns and stares in my direction. Just lovely.
I didn't do anything that I know of. I grab my books and shuffle through the hallways until I reach the front office, smiling at the sweet yet unfortunately named Ms. Bagney.
She gently smiled back, and I thought I saw a touch of sympathy in her eyes. Why though? I hate sympathy.
An unfamiliar woman in a navy blue uniform walked in front of me. My eyes trailed to the gun on her hip. A cop.
Oh God, what did Benny do? Did they find out? They better not have found out. I'm gonna die if Benny gets ahold of me.
"Hey honey, I'm Olivia Graham. How are you?"
I don't know what to say to that. My default is lying, so I went with, "I'm fine, thank you."
Original, I know. "May I ask why I am here?"
"Unfortunately, your stepfather Benedict Adams was arrested for drunk driving and possession of Class A drugs. He's probably going to jail for a long time."
Oh. OH! I can't tell whether to be excited or scared. I'm so glad he's gone, but where will I go? Will I have to go into the system? I've heard horror stories about orphanages and foster homes.
"Oh. Wh-where am I to go?" Stupid stutter.
"Well, I'm going to take you down to the police station, we'll check for relatives and meet with a social worker."
Relatives. Yeah right. My mom told me I was a single child, and she never lied to me. And my dad obviously abandoned me, so he's off the table.
"Ma'am, as far as I'm aware, I have no relatives."
"Well we'll see down at the station. Please come with me."
I guess I had no choice but to go along with someone named after a cracker.
At the station, she asked for my full name, my mom's name, if I knew my dad's name. The answer to that is no, but I assume it's something to do with Amoretti because my mom gave me his last name.
According to her, she wanted me to have some part of him. I don't want any part of him, he left me.
She left me in a room with a beat up brown cloth-covered couch that made me think of Hitchcock and Scully from Brooklyn 99.
I wonder if this police station has their equivalent. After 2 freaking hours, she came back with a smile on her face.
Why is she happy? She couldn't have found anyone, so she must be telling me I'm going into the system. No one would smile about that.
"Great news honey! We found some blood relatives and they would like to take you in."
Excuse me? What the hell kind of blood relatives could I have?
My mom wouldn't have lied to me. Also, take me in? I'm not a stray cat or something, I'm a person.
"There must be some mistake. I was never aware of any relatives. Do you have the right Amoretti?"
"Oh sweetie, don't worry this will all be explained. Here, meet your social worker Patricia."
If I have people taking me in, why do I need a social worker? What the hell is going on?
"Hey Brooke! I'm Patricia, and I'll be helping you through this process. First of all, were you aware you had brothers?"
"Ma'am? I must have misheard you. You said brothers?"
"Yes hon, 4 of them. They're all so excited to see you again."
HOL UP. AGAIN? I have no memory of these brothers. Granted my longterm memory isn't great, but I think I would remember four guys related to me.
"I don't remember having brothers. My mom told me I was a single child. Has a DNA test been done?"
"...No, we didn't do a DNA test, but if it would help you put your mind at ease I can certainly request one."
They didn't do a DNA test? They were just planning on handing me over to four (presumably) random guys? What the hell is wrong with this place?
"Yeah. I'd like a DNA test, please. I'm not going with someone until I know they're related to me."
A technician soon came into the room. He drew my blood and took a strand of my hair.
"We'll expedite this and have it done in 3 hours."
Seriously? You can't expedite the expediting?
I need to know, and this couch is uncomfortable. Of course, I didn't say that. My pathetic pushover ass just said "Sounds good."
Marcus POV, 1 hour earlier
I stared at the papers on my desk, frustrated with the numbers. Someone is gonna get fired for this.
I jumped as the phone rang, not expecting the sudden noise.
"Yes? This is Marcus Amoretti."
"Mr. Amoretti? My name is Officer Olivia Graham. We've located your sister and I would like to know if you want to take custody of her."
What the hell.
Why is a police officer telling me lies? There's no way she's been found. If we couldn't find her, no one could.
"What? What about her mother?"
"Mr. Amoretti, according to our records, Ms. Amoretti's mother has been dead for 5 years."
Then who's been taking care of her? Seemingly sensing my confusion through the silence, the police officer spoke again.
"She has been in the custody of her stepfather since her mother's death."
Why wasn't I called? Wait. Maybe I wasn't called because she isn't really my sister.
They probably made a mistake. But just in case they didn't, I had to check.
"How am I to know that she is my sister?"
"Sir, if you could come to the 89th Precinct I can talk to you in person about this matter."
So my sister has been 15 minutes away for the past 14 years. If it really is my sister. God, I hope it is.