Where was she?
All she could see was black. Strange, unknown voices seemed to be coming from every direction. Evie attempted to lift up her head to see where she was. “Owww!” She yelled. It was then that she realised her hand was a dark crimson. Blood. Immediately, she was surrounded by half a dozen people all wearing blue uniforms. Who were they, why were they here and what were they going to do to her? Her mind buzzed with questions. The people told her that she had been in a car crash and was the only survivor. The last thing Evie remembered was driving to the shops with her parents, grandparents and younger brother, George. Where was she going to live, who would look after her?
The tired, blue Ford Focus stopped at a huge, grey, bleak building. During the four hour car journey, Evie wondered where she would be going while her annoying social worker, Clare, sang loudly at the radio. Evie forced her painful head to turn to the rusty sign outside the building. It was labelled ‘Children’s Home’. The door was abruptly opened and Evie was pulled out of the car, yanked through the disintegrated gate and dragged up the long driveway. Clare and Evie stopped at the wooden, rotten door. The sight of the building alone made a shiver creep up Evie’s spine. Clare knocked on the door and it was immediately opened by a plump, robust looking woman. Evie heard the social worker whisper something to the woman and before she knew what would happen next she was wrenched through the mouldy door. The woman had eyes as big as saucepans, her chubby fingers were like sausages and her skin was so pink it looked like she had been scraped by a cheese grater. Evie was left alone on a wooden chair in a dark room, the metal door loudly banging behind the woman. The only source of light was from a minute window at the top of the room. Evie glimpsed a dark shadow from the corner of the room and knew she wasn’t alone. “Hello child, welcome to your new home!”