Welcome Home Ann

By Michael White

when ann gets adopted her entrie life changes. But in what way does it change and for what and how long

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael D White
• Release date: Jun 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201874995

Michael White

Ex-drummer, Ex-software author and Ex-flares wearer Michael White was born and lives in the northwest of England. In a previous life he was the author of many text adventure games that were popular in the early 1980's. Realising that the creation of these games was in itself a form of writing he has since made the move into self-publishing, resulting in many short stories and novellas. Covering an eclectic range of subjects the stories fall increasingly into that "difficult to categorise" genre, causing on-going headaches for the marketing department of his one man publishing company, Eighth Day Publishing.Having accidentally sacked his marketing director (himself) three times in the last two years, he has now retired to a nice comfortable room where, if he behaves himself, they leave him to write in peace.In his spare time (!) Michael likes to listen to all kinds of music and is a big fan of Steven Moffat, whether he likes it or not.Michael is currently working on several new projects and can be contacted at the links [e-mail], or via my own website on http://mikewhiteauthor.wordpress.com, or via twitter on @mikewhiteauthor.

Book preview

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to all the people that spoke to me. For all the love and support you have shown me over my entire life.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER  1

Chapter  2

Chapter  3

Chapter  4

Chapter  5

Chapter  6

Chapter  7

Chapter  8

Chapter  9

Chapter  10-50

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

I Would like to first thank one of my deepest,and closeted friends Nancy for being that ear I can vent too. To Hank Maly Keep fighting life has more in store for you.

Chapter 1

I don't really remember how they found me. I remember getting hit a couple times, sure, but I didn't remember passing out or anything. Maybe it was a little harder than I thought. Judging by the way my arms couldn't move and I felt stabbing pains in my side and leg, it had to be. I wonder where they took him.

When I woke up, I was lying on the hardwood floor in my living room and a couple women in smart looking suits were walking around the house. My long brown hair was spread out on the pillow someone must have placed beneath my head, and my body was alternating patches of tan skin and a murky purple that told me bruising was inevitable. Two men with dark blue jackets and button up shirts leaned over me to adjust something, and I saw a tube that seemed to be trailing away from my face. Maybe that's why every breath I made sounded like thunder in my ears.

My eyes blinked as the world around me seemed to move in slow motion. One of the women, a tall but gentle looking lady with reddish brown hair and bright blue eyes leaned down when she saw me stir. Her face came close to mine, and she slowly stretched a hand up towards my face. I flinched away, closing my eyes and her face seemed to fall. I shook the hair out of my eyes and continued watching her blankly as she smiled; it seemed that was what she had been trying to do.

I wanted to smile back to let her know I was fine, but I couldn't. It just hurt too much.

The men in the jackets lifted me up onto a mat of some kind and carried me out the door. The pain from the movement was immeasurable and I was almost positive I was going to pass out again. I looked up at the room, and then the door, and then the house that had been my childhood home. Memories of swinging on the swing set in the back and hiding in my room from the pain sent tremors through my body. I looked up at the night sky before taking one last look at my house. The lady with the blue eyes smiled softly from the doorway and mouthed It's going to be okay.

How do you know? I wanted to ask. And even if it was going to get better...

I don't even know what okay looks like anymore.

Chapter II

Waking up in the hospital wasn't the worst thing that could've happened to me. Sure, there was a big fat needle in my arm, but it was running pain medication all night and I was still feeling pretty good! I had a nice room all to myself, with comfy clean white sheets that smelled like lemon. The room had a window where I could see and hear the parking lot, with people coming and going. An attractive male nurse came in every morning as the sun started to rise too, with plates of food that got bigger and bigger. By the end of the week, I got an entire omelet with hash browns on the side just for me.

The people in suits came in as well of course, and tried to ruin the good moments, but I didn't really let them. If they asked me what happened, I told them I didn't really remember, which was true for the most part. True for the most part was kind of my specialty. I didn't tell them that I had started to have visions of being hurt, and what happened that day. I knew somehow that even if they found out the truth, I would lie. I would lie endlessly through my teeth for him, always. He knew too much to let me get away with telling the truth.

I almost thought that I would make it out of this mess alright, until she came in. I heard a knock at my door and said, Come in! surprised that anyone had bothered to knock at all. She leaned her head in first, as if to check that I was the right person, and then walked into the room with a tentative smile. I would recognize those eyes anywhere; she was the woman from my house. She grabbed a chair from its place by the wall and pulled it over to my bedside, smiling at me in the way she did. It seemed so genuine that it actually scared me. That kind of thing wasn't real, and I didn't like pretending. I sat up in my bed, crossing my arms over my chest and raising an eyebrow.

I remembered something I had learned in a book once: people often crossed their arms over their chest when they were hiding something or trying to protect themselves. Since that was exactly what I was trying to do, I let my arms drop and spread my legs a little. I didn't want anyone to be able to read me, and I despised predictability.

Hi Ann. She said in a voice that sounded like she was singing. Where was she from? A Disney movie?

I nodded a greeting, trying not to give her more of me than absolutely necessary. My left leg twitches, and I clenched it down on the bed, hoping she hadn't noticed.

She smiled at my reply, and asked Do you have any questions for me?

My eyes widened marginally, with shock. That was the first time anyone had asked me that.

I paused, and then truthfully said, I don't really know.

That's okay. She said, I ask because I'm going to steal a couple minutes of your day to talk to you now, but if you have any questions for me I encourage you to interrupt me in the rudest way possible so I can make sure to answer them for you ASAP.

She said it with a straight face, but her lip twitched with a grin. I smiled at her absurd statement, then bit my lip to shut it down.

Who are you? I asked, trying out this speaking thing. My voice was still a little raspy from underuse. Even the hot male nurse knew to drop the food on the table and run with no chit chat.

Good question! She said with a bold wink. I'm Miranda Anders of Child Protective Services, and I've been placed in charge of you for the time being... Helping you get everything sorted out, finding what to do next, etcetera. She clarified, after seeing my lost expression.

I cocked my head to the side. I noticed she had addressed me, and not my case. Was it possible she noticed I was an actual human being?

Interesting. I said cockily. Go on.

Well, first I just wanted to check how you're feeling. She said, smiling. If I had said something so mushy, I would have said it sheepishly, but she looked straight in my eyes with seemingly no regrets. The blue was almost painfully bright with that much honesty behind it. I wondered if she was trying to read my eyes too.

How are you feeling? I asked back instinctively.

She curled an eyebrow up in surprise and said, Why do you ask that?

I shrugged, but eventually decided to tell her the truth. I have a theory that nobody truly cares how you're doing. We're all essentially selfish creatures and listen to others in conversation only to get back to our own stories.

She looked perplexed but intrigued.

You may be right about that, but can you trust for the time being that I am not doing that? I thought about it and nodded. I would try, at least. She remained quiet, still waiting for my answer.

Well then, umm... I'm good. I guess? My rib hurts- the doctor said it broke... my ankle sprain isn't exactly pleasant. But I can take it. I reassured her.

I'm sure you can! She said conversationally, without a trace of sarcasm in her voice. You're very resilient, you know.

A part of me wanted to thank her, but the side that knew she was just saying that to get me to like her said I hate compliments.

Really? She asked cheerfully, brushing off my rudeness. I run on pure compliments. If my husband hadn't left me a thousand love notes saying that I look attractive and have a stunning personality, I couldn't have survived the day. She rolled her eyes dramatically and I laughed.

Left you notes? I asked, selecting the words that struck me in her speech.

She nodded and in a melancholic tone said, He passed away a couple of years ago, and left me all alone in a big beautiful tower, waiting for him. She sighed pseudo-dramatically, dancing over the sadness that would have caused others to cry, and I almost laughed again.

Like Rapunzel. I said, more to myself than to her. I had watched the movie Tangled in theaters a couple years ago, but it stayed with me. I think it was my favorite.

She nodded and said, Exactly! But enough about me! Your turn.

I tended up, waiting for her to ask the question. What happened? Who is he? Why did he do it? Why did you do it?

She said nothing of the sort.

Do you have any sort of plan looking forward? Anything that you would like to do? I didn't see pity blatantly in her eyes, but I knew it had to be there. I wondered if going to Disneyland someday was something I should mention now.

No. But I'll be fine alone. I said sharply. She had to know that I meant it.

She nodded and said I know that, Ann. But nobody should have to be alone. And since you're not yet 18 and old enough for emancipation, you will need a guardian or caretaker for the time being.

I scoffed at the word. Look how well the last one turned out...

Whatever then. I said stiffly.

Hmm? She asked, smile finally dropping. The inner me smirked at that. See? That's who you really are.

I don't care. I clarified. Leave me anywhere, I'll be fine.

Something seemed to happen when I said that... maybe it was the light, or how she turned her head. But a storm seemed to be brewing under those calm blue eyes of hers and I wondered what she was up to.

She nodded, and then stood.

I'll be on my way then, and handle that for you. She started walking out but then turned and pressed the red button at my side, signaling to let a nurse through.

More medication, she explained.

The man from earlier came in and injected something into a tube, which sluggishly dragged its way into me. I started getting drowsy once more.

She had shown me kindness, and I felt like I owed her. I didn't even do anything for her.

Thank you. I mumbled to her retreating figure. It hurt my chest physically to say it, but I had to let her know. I didn't know that I would ever see this woman again.

What for? She asked in complete surprise. She didn't think she had done anything.

Just thank you. I whimpered before falling once more.

Chapter III

When I woke up hours later, I heard arguing from the hall. The night sky made the room fairly black, but the door was open just enough that I could see into the hall. White light spilled in through the crack, and I saw two black shapes pass and then pass back in the opposite direction outside. They shifted back and forth like repelling magnets being forced together, apparently stuck in a stalemate of some sort.

Hello? I tried to call out. It was more of a half mumble, half sigh.

I don't think that's the best idea, Char. A woman's voice said sternly. I thought she may have been talking to me until I heard a response.

I can't not do anything. A woman said back. Was that... Miranda speaking? Why was she still here?

Your family is going to kill you... The other woman warned, finishing with a nervous laugh. Miranda laughed back, but it seemed worried and slightly off key. Clearly, they were friends, but there was something there. Fear? Sadness?

She looks just like the boys did, Kathy ... I can't just leave her.

Yes, but think of the boys, Char! Do you really want to burden them with this right now? As if that won't remind them of last time? the woman named Kathy asked.

I won't leave her, I can't. Miranda said, making up her mind. Just for a little while. Until she's safe again.

I hope you know what you're doing. her friend replied.

I don't... But that's never stopped me before. She answered, before I slipped back into the inky black of unconsciousness.

AT THE END OF THE WEEK, it was clear they were kicking me out. I had healed enough that I could speed down the hall to get breakfast without crutches, and if I didn't overexert myself too much, I barely even noticed the rib. They weaned me off of the medication I was on until I was fully clean, but I did put a thank you note on the nurse's desk. Thanks for the drugs. Love, Ann was sure to be framed, or hung up on her bulletin board at least.

A woman with a thick belt and dark shirt named Mrs. Simoncioni had come earlier to inform me of my release, and the doctors pretty much left me alone now.

Luckily, with nothing much to pack, I was ready to go pretty quickly.

A black car pulled up out on the street, and I sighed before taking the elevator down. I walked up to it confidently, face devoid of expression. I had heard enough horror stories about foster homes on the news that I wasn't sure I was ready, exactly. Nothing you can't handle, my subconscious whispered to my fear. I took a deep breath and straightened up. For a girl that wasn't tall by any means, I stood pretty confidently.

The door clicked open and I took a step back, mouth falling open in surprise when I saw CPS agent Miranda Anders waiting with a smile.

Hop in! she said eagerly, sliding over a seat and making room for me.

I thought about refusing her, and then my other options, and finally sat down inside next to her.

Hi. I said, confused. I didn't think I would see you again.

Her lips twisted up almost apologetically and she said, You weren't supposed to, really... She ran a hand through her hair and the car suddenly took off, pushing us back against the leather.

Seat belt. She said lightly, pointing to it. I looked back at her and left it off. As if I still cared what the world could do to me.

I pushed back against the seat and remained silent. She seemed hesitant to tell me what was really happening here, and I wouldn't be the first to speak. After a moment of driving, she sighed.

Okay, well... here it is. For the next couple months, to make sure you're getting the best care possible, you are to be placed with a foster family and attend weekly sessions with me where we just talk. I have an extensive background in therapy and psychology, and they believe I will best be able to attend to your needs.

She wasn't dancing around the words exactly, but I knew there was more that she wasn't saying. I looked at her pointedly.

What kind of 'background'? I asked. She said any question, any time.

Umm... I specialize in abuse, Ann. And trauma. She said, nodding at me.

I let out a laugh and nodded. The words she said were like stings to my body, but empty ones. They didn't relate to me like she thought they did.

Where am I staying? I asked, still looking straight ahead.

She peeked out the window and then back to me, with a shy grin. Actually, we're almost there.

I forced my face to remain blank, and not show the confusion I held. Where the hell is she taking me?

I looked out at the world that passed by in a blur and rolled my window down a little to see it go by. Since the accident, it seemed like all of the world had been like this. I just wanted to slow down and actually see it for once.

As we turned down street after street and warm air whipped through the car, I took notice of the houses. What started as rather large places with neat trim quickly turned to massive estates with fountains out front and 12 cars circling the lawn.

How did anyone live like this?

We took a turn onto a particularly stunning street and began to slow, causing my mouth to drop open. I was staying here...? This was nothing like home.

Before we had reached the end of the street, the driver pulled over and swung into an open gate onto a driveway that could hold about ten cars and came to a slow stop in front of the house. I rolled down more and stuck my head out the window, gaping at it.

I spun back to Miranda and she laughed at my shocked expression.

She got out after handing the driver something and encouraged me to walk up to the door with her.

Before opening the door, she turned to me on the porch.

I'm sorry to say that you won't be staying here for good, Ann. Just until we can find you a better home. She said, very apologetically.

Better than this one? I asked, looking at the trim green grass and cobblestone entryway.

She chuckled and pulled a key out of her pocket, making me eye it suspiciously.

She jammed it in the lock and turned it left before swinging open the brown double doors that would show me my temporary future.

Lights were on everywhere, illuminating the glow of the surprisingly simple farmhouse style home. There were light hardwood floors, comfy couches, and white and navy-blue trim as far as the eye could see. And it was big.

I stepped inside, and then turned to face her.

Is this your home? I asked. I tried to clamp down the feeling of nervous excitement that seemed to flutter buoyantly around my stomach.

Yep! she said. This is it. She waved her arms at it in a nonchalant way, but I knew social workers. They didn't make enough for all this.

Is this all thanks to your husband? I asked. I didn't know how much life insurance paid, but I didn't think it would cover all this.

She shut the front door behind us and seemed worried about something.

Well, not really actually. She said as she locked the door behind us. I told you about my background, but I guess I didn't mention the writing- I sell books too.

You write? I asked. She nodded, humbly. About what?

Psychology and trauma mostly, for therapists, psychologists, and anyone who is really interested. The books have done fairly well. She scratched the back of her neck, as if in embarrassment. My husband did help with the cost of it all though, I wouldn't be able to support my kids fully without him!

I nodded, and then froze. Kids?

She smiled excitedly.  Yes! I suppose you'll meet them later tonight, when they get home!

I wanted to know everything, immediately, which wasn't a foreign feeling to me. But who were her kids? Were they old, or very young? Were they mean? Would they try to hurt me? And beyond that, were they well-adjusted to life? I always wondered if having a therapist mother would make someone more or less prepared to handle things as it gave even more of a prerequisite for basic life. People don't love being placed in boxes; I've noticed. We prefer low expectations and few preconceptions.

Cool. I said, walking inside a little further.

I can give you the tour now, she said. Or I can show you to your room now and you can just look around at your convenience.

I pointed a finger at her and made a clicking noise with my mouth, so she knew her last option was the one. I would prefer looking alone, so I wouldn't have to make my expression the one she wanted to see.

She headed over to a large staircase and began walking up, so I followed without much hesitation. As much as I didn't trust her, she was the best option I had. And she hadn't hurt me yet. I had to hobble on my foot a little, but I tried not to let it bother me.

We walked past three closed white doors in a hallway until we reached one on the right and she popped it open.

Enjoy. She said with the same soft smile, before closing me inside and heading downstairs. Feel free to call me if you need anything; I'll be downstairs!

A part of me was shaking in gratitude, and the other part was speechless. This was my room?

I looked around at the massive space, complete with a queen-sized bed covered with soft looking sheets and a thick white comforter. I guess I could get used to sleeping on a cloud. I ran to the large open windows that pointed to the back of the house, and threw them open, relishing in the sunlight. I wandered back to see a large mirror that showed my full body, a small bathroom complete with sink, toilet, and shower, and even a laptop sitting on a desk. Surely that wasn't for me, but maybe I would be allowed to use it if I wanted!

I knew at that moment that whatever burdens that came with the house- be it annoying conversations about my feelings with Miranda, or little spoiled rugrats that I had to help clean up after- I could deal with it.

I walked over to the computer and plucked a sticky note off of the top that read Yours to play with! Password: password (you might want to change that).

Reviews for Welcome Home Ann

[Michael White · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book as a wonderful storyline. A amazing new coming of age book