Dear Sir/Miss/Mrs,<br/>We are sorry to interrupt your day, but we have a small question for you. For the last three years, we have been trying to find a good home for one of our younger wards. She has had a rather troubled past, and it would be very nice of you to take her in. Hoping you will think about this,<br/>~ Colorado State Orphanage<br/><br/>Tris sat on her cot in the maximum security section. She glanced at the white, padded walls, and the scanty little grey bed for what seemed the millionth time. The staff members hadn't even left her with a blanket. Why? 'Cause she had nearly killed herself while cutting. And now she was stuck in the freezing suicide protection room. The nasty grey slop they served would kill her anyways, if the cold didn't.<br/><br/>Tris glanced up at the small clock outside of her cell. 7:30. Damn... Sure enough, the doors creaked open, and a security guard -- his name was Jones -- walked in, holding an activated tazer that was pointed at the little girl. Tris blinked. "Security checks are the dullest, most freezing procedures in this whole cursed, and rotten building," she thought to herself. As expected, the police officer pulled out a pair of hard metal handcuffs, and told her to stand against the wall. He continued to point the tazer threateningly, even though Tris quickly complied. Anything to fool the staff, and try and keep them semi-happy. After all, Tris supposed, this place could get a hell of a lot worse, if she did something worse. They had already found her little razor, and had pulled her out of regular classes. Tris sighed, as the officer began the dull job of checking for illicit objects. (e.g. pen knives, wire, anything sharp, or able to use in a suicide was illicit in the suicide watch rooms.)<br/>Tris recalled her last few weeks of "readjusting". She figured that with all the time she spent readjusting, she would never get adjusted. After all, it had only been last week when Evangeline Winters (Yeah, the b**** that adopted me just two months ago.) had been charged for illegal use of weed, and child abuse. Her fiance Mark had received the same verdict. Both had been sentenced to five years in prison. Tris frowned, remembering the reason they had adopted her. The couple had decided that if a kid was caught buying illicit goods, they could claim innocence, and say that had no knowledge on the matter. Tris smiled. It had been pretty rough with all the abuse, but she was smart, and had led the cops right to Evangeline's, no to mention Mark's, personal weed supply. Tris winced slightly, remembering the hot poker on her skin.<br/>After the Winters incident, Tris had been taken in once more by the state orphanage, only to find her friends (The only two she had.) were already adopted into a good family that didn't want "another little burden." Sighing, Tris watched as the guard left the room. 8:00. Breakfast would be served soon. Tris watched as a tall woman came in to watch her. Tris ate, picking at her food. She finished half, then was allowed to leave the rest untouched. The tall woman left, muttering about a 'psychological break through for Tris.' Sighing, Tris lay on her cot, and shivered. Glancing outside, she watched as rain clouds began to empty, pouring down depression, at least, depression for this dismal place. Tris picked up the one item she was allowed to keep. A beach ball. The ball was bright yellow, with a smiley face done neatly in black. Tris kicked the ball across the room, watching as it slammed into a wall, and rebounded, barely missing her stomach. Sighing once more, Tris flopped on the cold, hard, grey cot, depression sinking in, and tears coming to her eyes.<br/>"Sweety, are you all right?" A sickeningly sweet voice murmured into her speakers. Tris glared at the camera. "Leave me alone."<br/><br/>The voice from Tris' speakers came back on, as sickeningly sweet as before. "Tris, sweetie, do you need to see your counselor?"<br/>Tris glared up at the speakers, then turned away, flipping the camera off in anger. The voice could be heard once more. "We're sending you some medicine, and food sweetie. Just calm down, okay dear?" Tris bit her lip, then whirled around, kicking the camera and speakers off of the counter. Unfortunately, they were drilled into the wall, and Tris fell back. She hit the floor slightly, before standing again. Outside the voice sighed. "Sweetie, please stay calm. Just go lay down, and wait."<br/>Tris stood, tiny fists balled in rage. "I can't get a blanket, and some real food! I don't want your cold, grey, sloppy, disgusting porridge. The slop you people serve is disgusting! Besides, I can't even get a decent family! All my friends are gone! They have nice, happy families, and don't even come to visit me. I don't care anymore! I don't want you around. Why can't you just go away?!? I want to be alone. I can't get a decent person to care about me, and I want to die. Do you hear me? I don't want to live! I can't do anything but upset people, anyways, so I don't want to f**king live any more!" Tris sank to the floor, tears creeping into her eyes.<br/>Five minutes passed, and a guard came in. He quickly cleaned Tris room, while the child lay semi paralyzed on the cold grey cot. Once he was finished, he spoon fed her cold grey porridge. Tris tried to get the stuff out of her mouth, and was rewarded with more paralyzer. After the food, she was given a freezing shower in cold water, and then strapped to the bed. The guard administered some anti-depressants, then left the room.<br/>Tris felt tears spill down her cheeks. What had she done to the world to get this sort of treatment?!? She had done all her work as best as possible, and was just trying to make it through life, but no. All the families that came to adopt didn't want a "carrot head", let alone one that was a "trouble kid". She really didn't try to cause trouble, but they never listened to her pleas. The families went to the blonde haired, blue eyed "perfect" girls, and Tris was left in a cold suicide protection room, with staff that could care less why she did what she did. It was always, "God, Tris! Can't you behave?", "That little brat couldn't be good if she tried," or "Just shut up, you little problem."<br/>Tris sighed, staring at the cold, grey wall; even it seemed to glare at her, accusingly. Tears rolled down the young girl's cheeks. She couldn't take much more of this punishment. Accusations plagued her left and right. People would never listen to her, and if they did, they weren't really paying attention. Her world seemed surrounded in this constant, grey, cloud, and it was full of depression. Tris turned, recalling the first time she had been adopted....<br/>The world had mostly been light, back then. Tris remembered the smiling face of Alice Cullen, and her biker/trucker husband, Jasper. They had taken her to the park for several weeks before adopting her. She remembered the twelve days of arts and crafts, as well as the cookie making sessions. She had even got to ride with Jasper in his big-rig. Tris smiled, remembering the long trip from Denver, across the U.S, and back to their home in Boulder. Suddenly, Tris' face darkened. Jasper, and Alice had died in a car crash a month after she had been adopted. They had both died, and Tris had been sent back to her old home. She still blamed herself for not being their to help them get to the hospital in time. The counselor still told her that she couldn't have helped if she had been several miles away with Alice's dad, enjoying a night with her new grandparents. Tris had replied coldly, "Everything's my fault. Just ask anyone."<br/>True to fate, Alice's parents died a week later from major heart problems. Tris still remembered the night she had found Grandma Mistletoe lying on the ground, cold and still. Unable to help it, Tris cried out loud, abandoning silent tears for long, loud sobs. The guard had returned to administer more medicine, and give her a glass of water. Tris let the medicine take her, and fell into a deep sleep, too weak and depressed to really struggle anyways.<br/><br/>Sarasate was playing. Tris woke up, and crawled off the tiny little cot. Sighing, she stood up. The sickeningly sweet voice played through her speakers again. "Time to see your counselor dear." Tris sighed, standing. She walked over to the door as two guards came in, and hand cuffed her. Hissing softly, she was led into a large room with brown leather chairs, and hundreds of paintings of flowers covering the walls. Looking up, she groaned.<br/>Dierdre looked up. "Why, hello, dear! How are you this fine evening?"<br/>"Just a bundle of joy now that we've been able to meet," Tris replied, voice coated thickly with sarcasm. "What do you wish to ask me today?" she added, already bored.<br/>Dierdre sighed. "What do you want to discuss?" she asked.<br/>There it was! Dierdre's one quality of turning everything into a question! The quality I hate the most about counselors... Tris mused. "I don't now. Want to talk about the never ending chain of people that always come to adopt me? They're really nice the first few days. They buy me things, and make me smile, and act "good" in public. Then they show me what they are realy like, as if I didn't already know. I think I've heard this speech a thousand times! The "I am your boss, and you will do whatever I say. If you don't, well, then this happens" speech, followed by some random beating even if I haven't done anything yet," Tris replied darkly. "Then you have the counselors who always want to know how they can help, and how they can make life better for the "poor children." Well, maybe it's time you figured that you fools can't do a thing about it. No one wants to, and no one can," Tris added, sarcasm dripping through her voice, and dark anger. "What else should we discuss, Miss Dierdre? Did you deduce anything about my psychological problem yet?"<br/>Dierdre sighed. "It seems you don't wish to talk today. The guards will take you back."<br/>Tris bowed, and was shown back to her cell. She kind of felt bad for Dierdre, but it had been nice to vent. Sighing, she curled up on her cot once again.<br/><br/>Tris kicked the wall in frustration. She paced, bored, and exasperated. There was nothing to do in the tiny little room she had been given. Flustered, she lay down on the bed, wishing for a family that would love her. Humming softly, she began to think of what they would be like. "The daddy will be nice, and gentle and kind. The mommy won't think that I'm a waste of time," she sang softly. "They would have a house without a barbed wire fence. There would be no judgement on made up offenses. They wouldn't make me act happy in public when I'm sad, or frightened! I might even get a few toys too. Who know what kind of fun we'd have together? If I met them, and they met me too! Maybe the dad will like to play basketball. Maybe they know how to play games as well. Perhaps, they have a cat, or a giant furry pet. Maybe there's a big fluffy dog outside their door! Maybe there will be a thousand rainbows when I walk outside with them and go. They might get me a little soft hamster friend. Or a cat that purrs louder than thunder! And maybe they like the park, and dancing in the rain. Maybe they have a lion, so they can scare away the guards. Maybe they're won't be psychiatric nonsense, or too many doctor's appointments! Just maybe, it will feel like home," she finished. Sighing, she lay down again, laughing softly. "Maybe it will all come true, even if the lyrics don't rhyme," she muttered, as the guards came in with dinner. Tris ate the small bowl of cold chili, then fell asleep on her bed, too tired to do anything else.<br/><br/>Tris sighed softly. Two months of time in the little suicide room. She was still considered unstable, since most of the time out of the cell had been spent trying to run away, being caught cutting herself, and even trying suicide once. Over the last four years, her life had nearly stolen away what little cheer, and hope she had left. Tired of wishing for one night, Tris lay down on her little cot, wishing she could cry. The speakers crackled on, the sickeningly sweet voice warning her that if she didn't cooperate with Dierdre soon, then she would have to take happy pills. Tris rolled her eyes slightly, doubting that even happy pills would cheer her up at that point. She sighed, glancing at the clock. It was eight p.m, the time that the only person considering adopting her came to visit. His name was Charlie Bucket, and Tris considered him seriously messed up. So far, he had just been too friendly, but Tris was fairly certain that she had asked for zero physical contact anyways. However, despite Tris' constant attempts to get him to back off, he still continued to hug her every time he came, no matter how much fight she put up. Sighing, she looked up, just as the guy came through the door.<br/>Charlie burst through the door, carrying a big teddy bear. "I got you this! The guards said you could have it while I'm here with you, and they'll hold it for you when I'm gone."<br/>Tris watched his fast movements, slightly afraid, and definitely keeping her distance. "I see. He's got a nice red bow," she replied, darting back as he rushed forward to hug her.<br/>Charlie, seemingly oblivious to how uncomfortable he was making her, scooped Tris into a big hug that lasted a touch too long. Setting her down, he smiled. "I'm glad you like it. I have to go now, so see you tomorrow," he said, giving the bear to the guards.<br/>Tris backed away, and flipped backward onto her cot. "Yeah, bye," she muttered, trying to push away the chills she got when he was near. That guy gave her the creeps.<br/><br/>Tris flopped down on the bed, too tired to do anything else. She sighed, rubbing her temples, and trying to get the scent of bad cologne out of her little dress. She wished there was some way she could make it clear to Charlie that she didn't want to be adopted by him, but he was relentless. Cursing, she lay down, only to hear the door click open again. Praying it wasn't Charlie, she glanced up. "Counselor Dierdre?" she said, surprised by her Counselor's visit.<br/>Counselor Dierdre dismissed the guards, and closed the blinds, as if she were about to hide something. "Hello, Tris," she replied, closing the door. "I hope you know that you have caused me a lot of trouble. I have wanted to make a book, and retire for so long now...." she added wistfully. "Yet, you continue to tease, and joke, never giving me a chance for a break through," she said angrily, slipping a small razor from her purse.<br/>Tris frowned. "I'm sorry. You should just ask for a new patient," she said, not noticing the razor.<br/>Dierdre sighed. "I'm running out of patients to choose from, as well as patience. You'd best behave in Counseling tomorrow," she said coolly. "Or else, I'll cut your throat." With that, she made two cuts in the shape of "D's" on Tris' wrist. "I'll be back if you don't improve," she hissed, leaving.<br/>Tris glanced at her, not surprised. "Yes, Miss Dierdre," she murmured, then fell asleep on her cot as soon as the Counselor had left.