Searching for Love

By Sierra Cruz

Sydney has been through it all... Adoption, mental illness, abuse. And now, as she journeys through high school, she faces the "in-crowd," the drugs and alcohol, the addictions of mental diseases, and the search of her abusers and birth father - all while trying to figure out life for herself and only one person can save her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sierra Cruz
• Release date: Jul 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536506792

Sierra Cruz

Just a girl sharing experiences.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Love. How can one simple single-syllable word be so difficult to fulfill? I thought love was supposed to be an all-powerful force that anyone can see and comprehend at any given time. I see now that I was utterly and completely wrong.

As I mope down the hallway on my way to biology, one thought haunts me: no one loves you. Who could ever love a special needs child? I hear the kids talk. Retarded doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. Try rejected, insignificant, worthless.

I stop at my locker and see my hypocritical friends. From the outside, they seem perfect. Pretty, popular, perfect. But they all have terrible secrets. They wear masks. Emotional masks to cover up the fact that they are just like me; abused, mistreated, searching for love.

I walk into the classroom, my hood over my head and my backpack weighed down. I find a seat in the far back. I open my book so it looks like I'm participating, but my thoughts are in a whole other reality.

Daddy you don't look so good. I said as my father walked in our wannabe home. His clothes were ripped and wrinkled, his hair moussied up and his breath smelled of alcohol. Don' worry ‘bout it darlin, he said, no need to worry your innocent 5-year ole' mind about nuthin.

He patted me on the head a little too hard and waddled off into the kitchen. I followed him for I was concerned. Daddy, why do you smell funny?

I tole' you not to worry about it! he said in a tone on the border of yelling. But daddy, I-, I started to say, but he was already walking towards me with fire in his eyes. Daddy please, not again! I didn't mean anything, honest!

I tried to wiggle my way out of what was yet to come, but I saw that it was no use. A long shadow was cast across my face as a hand followed like a ghost. I went flying across the room. I had taught myself not to cry, for crying was for unstable children. But this pain was almost unbearable.

I looked up just in time to see the same ghostly shadow followed by the same drunken hand. Again, the tears welled up inside of me but I forced them down. Not here, I told myself, not now.

Sydney Dawson. My daytime nightmare was interrupted by Mrs. Brown, my biology teacher. Sydney, will you please tell us the answer to number seven? Number seven? I asked softly. I-I don't know. I shift down in my seat as all the kids laugh. To my dismay, Mrs. Brown can't help but giggle either. There was no number seven.

Chapter 2

When I get home that day, I run up to my room without even saying hi to Cindy, my adopted mom. I know that anything I would say would result in a God-based therapy session, and that's the last thing I need.

As I flop down on my bed, I force myself not to cry, for crying is still for unstable kids. Instead, I let my mind relax. But, relaxing is the last thing it does.

Sydney M. Dawson, my father said to the orphanage owner. Age? The man asked. 10, my father replied with a hint of evil in his eyes. Where is the child's mother? Dead. She died of childbirth complications when it was first born.

I hated being called it but it was becoming more and more familiar. Why are you giving her up? The man asked pointing his pen at me. Well, my father began, I have no time for it anymore. Plus, it gets in the way of everything. It’s disrespectful, vengeful, and just plain annoying.

I looked up at my father. Who was this man? Surely he is not the one who was supposed to tuck me in at night, teach me how to ride a bike, or just love me. I was beginning to realize that I hated my father more and more with every word he spoke.

Any health concerns we should look out for? asked the man. It has Bipolar. It just needs a little attention from time to time. Unfortunately, I have been too busy to give it that.

You mean too busy getting wasted and hooking up with any woman you can!! I wanted to scream, but the owner already looked disgusted with me so I decided to stay still.

Well, the man said still looking at me. Welcome to Westburry Orphanage. We will do all we can to make you feel comfortable. Now, Mr. Dawson, if you would just sign here, we can take her off your hands. I looked up just in time to see my father sneer at me and say Gladly.

Chapter 3

I wake up screaming, my knuckles white from gripping my pillows. It’s just a dream, I tell myself. But this dream is becoming more realistic with every waking moment. I need to get out. Run. Somewhere. Anywhere but here.

I hear Cindy knocking on my door. Without an answer, she opens it and walks inside. My face in my pillow, I start sobbing as she walks across the room.

Sweetheart, she says, I heard you screaming. Is everything okay? Do I look okay?! I snap back. She glances and me with a saddened look. Well, she says after a long pause, I'll leave you alone then.

As she turns to leave, I see a tear trickle down her cheek.

Unfortunately, I wake up the next morning: Saturday. At least I don't have to deal with the phonies at school. I roll out of bed, grab a hoodie, throw my hair up in a messy bun, and head downstairs. As much as I don't want to deal with people right now, the smell of fresh coffee and crisp bacon leads me to the kitchen.

Cindy is slaving over the stove with sweat beading on her forehead. As much as she's a pain, she's the closest thing I'll ever have to a mom and I love her.

Hey, I say. I'm really sorry about biting your head off last night.

Oh, honey. I forgive you. She gives me a momma bear hug that only she's good at. I know you're dealing with a lot of stuff right now. I understand.

She walks back to the stove and continues talking. A letter came for you. It's from Westburry. My body tenses up at that name. Westburry Orphanage is where I spent most of my childhood. I prefer to think of it as the next step in my living nightmare.

As my stomach rises into my throat, I begin to read the words that are beginning to swarm all over the page:

––––––––

MISS DAWSON,

WE HAVE RECEIVED WORD FROM YOUR BIOLOGICAL FATHER THAT HE WOULD LIKE TO MEET YOU. WE HAVE SET UP A TIME AND A PLACE TO MEET: EAST 4th STREET AT 4:00 PM ON SATURDAY THE 23rd. PLEASE MEET US PROMPTLY AT THIS TIME AS WE WILL BE AWAITING YOUR ARRIVAL. THANK YOU.

WESTBURRY ORPHANAGE

––––––––

I choke on my last gulp of orange juice. Cindy looks at me and then at the paper. What does it say, honey? I-it says that Dad wants to...to meet me.

Chapter 4

The last thing I remember