Thread: I Want to Play a Game [Wendy Darling]

She had not spoken for six days, not a single word. There was no point anymore. All of her pleading and crying hadn't done any good - her fate was sealed. She couldn't believe that she had actually thought these foster parents would be different than all the previous. No. Rather than take her side of the story when she had told them their son had tried to rape her, they called the agency, made up lies about her, claimed that she was hysterical and couldn't distinguish reality from delusions. That she had been the one seducing their son, when she suddenly suffered a violent mood shift and attacked him. So here she was, too much of a liability now even for an adoption agency to want to deal with, shipped off to a psych ward to rot though she was barely sixteen... Emma's eyes were dry and her expression blank as she walked into the place, escorted by two guards, as though that were even necessary - she wasn't actually crazy and anyone with a brain could see that. They towered over her petite form, the top of her blonde head barely reaching their chests, and she felt scared, intimidated. The hospital looked mundane enough, but it still freaked her out. She didn't belong here! Emma was used to not belonging, but this, this was just so unfair that it made her want to scream. Once she was inside, the guards left her and she was made to wait in a sitting room as the receptionist pulled up her record and filed all the appropriate paperwork. Emma sat straight, her spine rigid with tension and her hands wringing nervously in her lap. She wore her long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a simple grey dress, which was neither too tight nor very revealing. Although she was thin and beautiful, Emma had no interest in displaying her body. The less attention that she attracted, the better, in her opinion. She shifted and crossed her legs. She was anxious. Emma had never been good with doctors. Somehow they always seemed to condescend to her, tell her what she ought to know already, make her feel like a stupid child. That was how all authority figures made her feel. She would much rather be left alone - she did well when she was simply left to her own devices her foster parents had seemed to understand this and given her space. Everything had been just fine, she had been doing alright at school, had finally felt relatively normal, that is, until the night she'd been forced to claw at her foster brother's face until it was covered in bleeding scratches and he had finally let her go. The memory made her shudder with fear and loathing. You may see Dr. Stevens, now, the secretary said kindly. She had stood up, and gestured for Emma to do the same. Slowly, as if in a trance, Emma walked to the door, then into the room, looking back when the secretary closed the door. She looked hesitantly at the doctor. He didn't look like a bad man, but that didn't make her any less wary of him. Emma opened her mouth to speak but couldn't seem to form the words. Instead she settled for taking another step further into the room, fiddling nervously with the I.D. bracelet that was now on her left wrist. I... was all that she could manage.