My alarm goes off, blaring the default sound (AKA the most annoying sound one could ever fathom).

It's 7AM. Some people can't imagine ever waking up at this time, day after day, but for me it's just a typical morning. I've gotten used to it, even after going to sleep at 1AM. I'm the oldest in the foster home, you see. That's what made me decide I should be more responsible. I used to be a stupid little kid. A stupid little kid who couldn't do anything without the help of her so-called "mom". But now I wake up at 7AM every weekday and make breakfast myself.

Today I've decided that an apple will do. Maybe that's not enough. Is it? An apple and a glass of milk. A small glass of milk. That'll do. It'll get me through the day until lunch time, anyway.

I wash my hands at the kitchen sink, using hot water and soap twice, as always, then I pour my milk and put the glass on the table next to the juiciest-looking red apple I could find. Then I head to the front door to pick up the newspaper that had been dropped through the mail slot earlier this morning. Mr. Miller, the "man of the household" always lets me do the crossword puzzles. I like him a lot better than his wife, Judith Miller. She's not a terrible person, but she kind of is. She doesn't hate puppies or anything, but she's the type of person who would carry one in her purse. Does that make sense?

I take a bite of my apple as I sit down to do today's puzzle.

"The sound of ____" I take a sip of my milk. "Seven letter word... Silence! Come on, you can do better than that! I want a challenge!" I chuckle quietly to myself because I'm such a nerd.

At 7:30 I go back upstairs. I shower, then go back to my room to get dressed and make my bed. My room isn't terrible, just bland. But, I must say, it's much better than the bedroom I lived in the first seven years of my life. The wallpaper was peeling, there were water stains on the ceiling, the heater rarely functioned. And, when it did it made an annoying, high pitched noise. This room is better. I have a couple posters pinned on the white wall above my bed (The Beatles because that's what Mr. Miller likes, and my all time favourite, David Bowie). I actually have a bed frame, not just a mattress sitting on a dirty rug.

My outfit today consists of a worn out pair of blue jeans and a black and white striped t-shirt. I don't really have a style of my own. I just wear whatever is given to me, usually by Mrs. Miller when she comes back from the second hand clothes store. If I could shop wherever I like though, and wear whatever I want, I'd be the best looking bitch around.

I quietly make my way back to the bathroom down the hall, light floods from the window. It's the best room in the house at this time of year (summer) if you want good lighting. I brush my straight, dark brown hair which is looking as boring as ever, and then brush my teeth. I've never gotten a cavity and I don't plan on getting one any time soon.

Back in my room, when my bed is made to my satisfaction, the right corner done and undone until I feel it's right, I pick up my laptop from my paint-chipped nightstand. Mr. and Mrs. Miller's son gave it to me a week after he received it because he stepped on it and the screen cracked. Opening it, I log on and see that my favourite fanfiction has been updated!

Here's the thing, though: my favourite fanfiction is about a girl who's been adopted by a band. This band is called My Chemical Romance, but I'm not really part of that fandom. I'm not really part of any fandom. I'm not allowed social media, it's prohibited in this house. I am allowed reading sites because those can be used for "educational purposes" as Mrs. Miller would say.

Who else do I know of? There's this band called Panic! At the Disco, and one called Fall Out Boy. I don't even know how I found all these fics, I just came across one one day a couple years ago and I felt... understood. I haven't been able to stop reading them since then.

• • •

About four hours later, after everyone else in the house has gotten up and started their day (that's Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Rosa the seven year old, and Micah the 11 year old) I'm called down for lunch. We usually have salad, sandwiches, soup, or leftovers for lunch. You know, the boring, normal lunch-time stuff. But today as I come down the stairs I can tell something is different.

"PIZZA!" Micah yells as he races past me down the stairs.

"Hey, no running down the stairs!" I call after him. Too late. He trips down the bottom step and lands smack on the floor. Rosa, who was right behind him starts to cry before he even realizes that his nose is now gushing blood all over the floor. She can't stand the sight of blood, or loud noises (like someone falling on the floor).

"Hey, it's okay, lets go to the kitchen." I say as I take her hand. Micah stands up and runs to the bathroom, a trail of blood follows him. There's no sign of tears in his eyes. He's a tough kid.

"What was that!?" Asks Mrs. Miller as she runs around the corner from the kitchen. She stops at the sight of the blood on the floor. "Evelyn, what happened here?"

"Micah. He tripped down the stairs and... nose bleed. He's in the bathroom." I explain, pointing down the hallway where he went. "I'll take Rosie to the kitchen away from the mess. You want me to clean it up?"

"No, no. I'll get Alister to do it. You go get some lunch, I had a pizza delivered."

"So I've heard."

• • •

Word count: 1042

first official chapter over! so this is kind of just setting the scene, a typical day for Evelyn. just getting to know her a little bit before the real story begins, y'know?

hope you enjoy :)