The Heirs Daughter

I wake up from yet another night terror with sweat dripping down my back and i am sure the bed is soaked also. I roll over to look at the clock and see its four in the morning, groaning because I know I won’t go back to sleep. I get up and get ready for my day. As I’m in the shower, I think of how these nightmares have always been part of my life. They have been getting clearer and more realistic the older I get, and it’s frightening. I get out of the shower and find my favorite shorts and a red tank top, glad that getting dressed is easy for me. I don’t have to worry much about makeup as I’ve always had that natural kind of beauty most women glare at me for. I looked in the mirror at my long legs, slim waist but curvy hips, golden eyes, and straight black hair that fell down to my waist. I thought I looked pretty decent. After checking that my hair was not all knotted up, then I finished dressing by putting on some mascara and eyeliner. Finding my flip-flops under the couch where I always kick them off as soon as I get home, I slid them on as the final touch. I live alone in a two-story rundown apartment on the second floor that has seen better days, but it was all mine. After graduating from high school at seventeen and leaving my foster family behind with only my backpack of clothes and a two-hundred-dollar check from the state, I set off on my own. I don't remember having parents or if I even wanted to begin with, I only knew what my social worker said. She told me that I was found on the doorstep of the orphanage at the age of four with one little note ‘keep her safe, she is Acadia’ pinned to my dress, and that’s what they decided to name me, not knowing what else to call me. Growing up in the foster system was hard for a long time. I have shuffled from home to home since I can remember, and I met some great people but never stayed at one longer than six months. A few couples have tried to adopt me but couldn’t handle my nightmares every night, and the screams that came with them. It wasn't my fault, and they knew that as well as I did, but it was very disruptive to some families that had other children or just adults that wanted to sleep through the night. So here I am two years later after setting off on my own, nineteen years of age, and working a dead-end job as a secretary for a lawyers office because I can’t afford college. I make sure to grab my blouse and pencil skirt for work along with my heels before heading down to the busy streets of New Orleans.