-We Are All- ~Broken Things~ (South)

The nervous impulse took over him, and he ran a hand on the side of his neck and behind it, feeling the three little raised lines that had been done by himself just an hour ago. The scratches that he had carved into his skin with his fingernails weren’t deep, but they were enough to draw blood. Not too much blood, just a couple of drips that ran down his neck that were easy to clean up with a tissue. The reason why he always rubbed a hand over his neck was something of insurance to make sure that his neck was always covered by his somewhat long hair. He was moving in with his new family that very day, and he didn’t want them to know that he wasn’t the unflawed angel that he tried so hard to be. He didn’t want them to know that he didn’t regularly eat dinner. He didn’t want them to question the little pinkish lines that ran down his right cheek. He didn’t want them to see the scars on his pale shoulders. Because I have to be perfect. Fighting for something, anything, and in my case to be perfect, it keeps me together. Little did he know that his fight to be perfect was only him making himself more broken than he already was.

As he sat in the backseat of the car that the orphanage had strained so hard to get, he could feel every little rock that bumped underneath the tires, sending his body into small tremors, which helped him hide the fact that his body was causing him to shake. Yes, he would start to shake every now and again, feeling a panic attack coming on, but this was different. He had a totally real reason to feel the little fluttering of his hands and body. I’m gonna meet my new family today. In a few minutes, actually, and I have no idea what to do or say. Okay, well not for the first time. He had met them before, but they hadn't exactly spoken to each other and he considered 'meeting his new family' sitting down with them and talking with them. He had met the mother earlier that day and talked to her, and the orphanage took him back to the place to get all his stuff together, so now he was in the car, going back to the place. He had seen the siblings but he didn’t know what his new siblings were like personally. Oh, right. I have siblings, too. He nearly had a heart attack when he heard of how many children the woman had. Seven. He wasn’t sure if they were all her biological children, or children from different marriages, or possibly adopted children, like he was. But if they were, he wouldn’t care.

His blue, outlaw eyes scanned the houses that the wealthy people of District 1 lived in, knowing that in a very short while, the car would come to a stop in front of the one house that he would call home. He was going to be a part of the Lightwood home. His last name had been changed from the orphanage given ‘Bell’ to the last name of the woman who had adopted him. It felt odd to hear the new last name and his first name put together. Almost like it was odd to go to school and see a friend with glasses; it was just… different. Everything around him was changing, and the rush of it falling over his head like a wave in a storm made him afraid. But he knew if he felt afraid, he would contradict everything he had ever wanted, so he just had to put on a brave face.

Suddenly, the car jerked forward, indicating the wheels have stopped turning. The driver didn’t move or get out of his car, but he muttered to Osiris to ‘hurry the hell up’, basically telling him that he was on his own. Osiris looked at him with disbelief as to be so rude, but the driver didn’t do anything about it. As he got out of the car, he flipped a quick finger to the driver, mumbling a few choice curse words under his breath. What an ass. Oh well. If this is the small price to pay to get into the house, I’ll pay it.

Ripping the trunk open with too much unneeded force, he looked in the trunk and saw the four boxes he himself had packed just a short while ago. Sighing, he slightly slapped his forehead, realizing that he was only a thin little twig that had to haul his entire bedroom to the front door. He couldn’t believe that the driver was going to be as rude as to let him do all the work himself, but he didn’t say anything about it. He just put up a brave face and got a grip on the first box. And this is the only time I will ever wish for muscles. Because muscles are gross. Very gross.

After about fifteen minutes of straining and pushing and pulling, he got all four of the boxes (that must have been about a third of his weight for each of them) onto the front porch. Turning around from the direction of the door, he waved at the driver to go, watching with pissed off eyes as the guy precariously twisted his direction and drove out of the neighborhood. “Bye, asshole,” he muttered under his breath. Out of all of the people at the orphanage he ever met, he had never disliked anybody except for the driver. Absently thinking about why they even hired that guy, he turned towards the front door and slowly worked up the courage to knock on the door of the – his – home. But he probably sat there for a good five minutes, not having the power to lift up his arm and knocking on the door that stood in front of him.

The five minutes that he froze himself in place, all he could think about was what the siblings were like. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the possibilities of who they were. His new mother had explained to him their names and what they were like, but with most children, they put up an act in front of their parents, so he didn’t know if she was explaining what they were like with too much accuracy. He didn’t know if they were as nice as she had described, or If they were demons or anything of the sort. I’m just going to have to see, aren’t I?

Finally, after mentally forcing himself to, he lifted his hand to the door, pulling it back and forth with three quick, awkward jerks. After about thirty seconds or so, the door swung open, and a boy answered the door. Because of his height and the look of maturity that seemed to be always plastered on his face, he guessed he was the oldest. He knew there were only two boys in the family (and he also knew the names of the boys) but he didn’t know which one the boy in front of him was. Taking a mental guess, he plastered a smile on his face for his sibling.

“Hi… uh… It's me… uh, Osiris. It’s good to meet you, Chyba? Are you Chyba? Wait… no… are you Riley? You are either Chyba or Riley, I know that as a fact. Sorry if I’m getting your name wrong, there’s so many people in your family.” Nervously, he let out an airy laugh, knowing that he was making a horrible impression on his new brother.