Chapter one of Radella

A New Place; A New Time

Ella sat on her bed sulking as she wrote in her journal. For her writing was the only way to take out her anger without getting in trouble, and sometimes even then she would somehow do something wrong. Drawing was another way, but every time she drew something beautiful and wanted to show it off they threw it away. She hated they. They were always arguing or finding someway to blame her for nothing. I guess they just like picking on me, Ella thought to herself and then wrote it down, They think just because they are the parents I am their toy. Her hand went up to her necklace, the necklace her real mother had given her, wherever she was. She knew her mother hadn't abandoned her to these people, it was a feeling that she believed with all her heart.

"Radella Nissa Genevier!" One of they screeched. Actually it was her adopted mother.

"Yes Ma'am," Ella said and got up. She walked to her door and opened it.

"You made that mess in the kitchen didn't you? Well, clean it up, now!" Her mother said as she usually did. The mess was always hers and not Ella's, but Ella knew better than to question or try to correct the woman.

"Yes, Ma'am," Ella said again and left her room entirely. She walked down the hall and into the kitchen where she began to wash the dishes and clean the counters. Her adopted mother came in to see her doing it then complained that she was doing it wrong and smacked the back of her head. Ella had learned to expect things like that and didn't even wince. After years of that kind of treatment, Ella did not fear anything anymore. The fights, the hitting, and the leaving, were all a part of every day life now.

When Ella finished her chore she rushed back to the safety of her room and sat on her bed again. She was writing in her journal when she heard the distant rumble of thunder and a few minutes later the first drops of rain. Soon there was a steady pound of rain and the flash of lightning. Ella sighed, she had always loved storms and the lightning fascinated her. When she was small, she remembered, she would dance in the rain alone in her backyard until her parents found her and told her how stupid a thing it was. They would yell at her for getting her clothes wet again and she would have to wash them by hand.

All this she had told her journal, the only way she could speak, or rather, write freely. Her dreams and wishes and hatred were all in them, but she guarded it safely for last time her adopted mother found it she read it, burned it, and punished her by not feeding her for an entire day.

Ella put down her pen and closed her journal. She walked across the room and sat down on a rocking chair in front of the window rubbing her birthmark that stretched halfway down the left side of her neck. It stretched all the way down from her ear to her shoulder, and many times she would try to hide it.