I'm not the best...

[Xanodus]

This is just a short story I have to compose for my homework... and my teacher is going to get it published (not distributed) like printed and stuff and I want feedback!

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Even if I never escape this place, I’m not going to change, thought Heather as she rolled a piece of ceiling plaster between her fingers.

The pale grey walls of the orphanage surrounded her in her corner.

The counsellor sat at her desk, watching Heather in her corner, rolling the ceiling plaster in her fingers, writing down notes on her clipboard.

Heather could feel eyes staring at her. She glanced up and saw the counsellor staring at her with a warm, kind smile. Heather didn’t return the smile. She glumly looked at the counsellor for a few seconds, and then went back to rolling her ceiling plaster.

‘Why don’t you talk to me, Heather? I’m here to help you. I’m your friend.’ The counsellor’s voice calmly spoke. Heather stopped rolling her plaster in between her fingers and sat, silent.

‘Get lost, lady. You aren’t my friend. Don’t act like you care about an orphan. You have sat at that desk and talked to many others like me.’ Heather replied. ‘Heather-’ began the counsellor. ‘No.’ Heather interrupted her halfway. ‘You can spend this whole afternoon sitting there and writing down notes about me like I am an animal in an exhibition. See if I care. I am not going to tell a mere stranger all about myself.’ Heather glared at the counsellor. The counsellor wrote down some words on her clipboard, and then flipped the page, to reveal a nice, clean white piece of paper. ‘If you think you can get me to fill up an entire piece of A4 paper with my thoughts then you really must be as stupid as I assumed.' Heather retorted, throwing the ceiling plaster across the carpet.

'I think maybe that's enough for today, don't you think?' murmured the counsellor as she picked up her papers. 'Meh.' was all that came out of Heather's mouth. Well I didn't talk anyway, Heather thought for a moment before the counsellor opened the door to allow her out. Heather stood up and walked out the door, not once looking back to see the face of her counsellor.

The orphanage's corridors were long, dull and boring, and Heather hated them. She had lost count of the number of times she had walked through them.

The paintings on the walls were paintings that had been painted by the kids at the orphanage themselves.

Edited September 22, 2012 by Emotional Outlet

[† Emotional Outlet]

Heather sounds like the people I follow on Tumblr so I can send them messages not to kill themselves. I don't find her to be a very sympathetic character in this little bit, haha. It's interesting though, and I'd like to see more if it's something you intend to continue later on.

[† Anras Rune]

Interesting. Seems nice and depressing. I cant really judge till I read more however... Lol

So Get posting!