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bDreams Can Come Truea

Prologue

I suppose that you’re reading this for amusing entertainment. Well, you might be satisfied, but perhaps not. This story, if even worth telling, is not your average romance tale of a man sweeping the girl off her feet. I will admit that yes, it can be romantic in some parts, but its not that simple.

Let me start from the beginning, (but keep in mind that I won’t be telling you a few parts from my point of view). Probably the only normal thing about me is that I look like any normal American girl would look like. I have dark brown hair, which some say shines a reddish color in the sun, but I don’t see it. My eyes are brown, and I’m about 5’6”. Although I’m not fat, you still don’t need to know my weight. Anyway, to be blunt and to the point, I have no memory of my life from the time I was born to the time I was four years old. I’ve been told that because of the accident, I suffered from amnesia. I guess it’s not all that bad seeing that I wasn’t losing much except any memory of my parents and the life I was supposed to lead.

On October 30, 1986, the day before my fourth birthday, the police found me. They found the bodies of my parents too. Where you may ask. In what used to be our family car. Terrible accident I was told. I was the only survivor. The other car involved exploded. It was a miracle that I was alive and with only one major cut on the side of my face, where my left ear joins with my head. I have a nice scar now, and let that be a hint of sarcasm.

Unfortunately, the police and detectives were not able to find any relatives of mine. My parents’ identities were burned, and after a few months, they gave up on investigating. Nice, isn’t it? Therefore, I was put into what every child would fear if they were aware of it. An orphanage. I can’t say it was a horror house or anything. I mean, I was surrounded with kids, many my own age. But what hurt the most, was almost all of those kids left and I was alone. And I learned that the older you got, the less likely the chance of adoption became. Probably because these to-be-parents wanted a kid they could raise from the start as if it were the own.

By the time I was sixteen-years-old, I had forgotten about my life long dream to be a part of a family. By then, I just wanted to find out what I was meant to do in life. I didn’t really belong to anyone. I don’t even know if my name is the one my parents gave me, which it probably isn’t. Forgot to tell that to you, didn’t I? To back up, the orphanage gave me the name of Faith Smith, or Fae for short. I guess it was because when I started living there, I’d always be saying that someone would come for me one day, so I guess I had faith in people. Don’t really know otherwise. And Smith came from the tattered license plate on my parents’ car. It said “SMTH” on the first part of it. The rest of plate melted from the heat of the fire. I still have no idea how it was that I survived.

Well, now it is October 30, 2002 and the day before my twentieth birthday. I have the day off from work, and I’m heading over to this museum that’s having some special exhibit. And just to let you know, I live in my own apartment in Phoenix, Arizona, United States of America. Nice little place. Actually, it belongs to the orphanage; rather they’re paying for it, until I’m 21. So I’ve got a year left to live under them. Up until now, I’ve done the same thing for three years. After high school, I found two jobs, bought myself a cheap car, and everyday I go to work. The first job is working in the public library, (I love books), until three in the afternoon. At five, I head to my second job, which is a waitressing job at a pizza place called Rivendell’s.

However, on this October the 30, I was part of something that I hadn’t been for exactly 16 years. It was exactly twelve noon, it was raining, and it involved two cars.

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