This will not be a complete novel but some chapters and snippets from my current work in progress. Please bare in mind that these are first drafts. I look forward to getting your thoughts and opinions on my work. Thank's in advance Joss xx

Chapter one

Placement day; the day every inhabitant of Ridmore dreaded. A day in which anyone who'd received their pink slips, regardless of age, was at risk.

Riley Carson had escaped eviction as the residents liked to call it, for three years. Up until this point she had been deemed too damaged for placement; however, a month ago, on her sixteenth birthday, she'd received her pink slip and now she faced the all too real risk that placement days posed.

Standing in the large viewing room, Riley pulled at the rolled neck of her top as she gazed blindly ahead of her, trying to look past the parade of people that slowly made their way along the opposite side of the glass partition. Each, she noted, was dressed in their own way, some bright and colourful, others dark and bland but all still able to be who they wanted to be and wear what they wanted to wear.

Riley had once been just like them, a unique individual; however, Ridmore had eradicated any sense of individuality as soon as she had stepped through its massive doors and earned the title of rehabilitation child.

Before losing her parents, she had visited this very centre and wandered in front of the same glass partition that she now stood behind as her parents examined the lines of uniformed girls. Now, as then they’d been ordered from shortest to tallest. At the time, she’d paid little attention to any of them, never for a moment considering how they might feel. Now here she was, standing with them, wondering just what fate had in store for her.

Would she be one of the lucky ones who went to a real home with good people? Would she become a part of a friendly family, either as their daughter or a well-treated servant? She could only hope.

It was a tough situation. Her longing to be free of this place was great, but there was no guarantee that a better life awaited her outside and so it seemed to her and many at the centre, that to remain was the best option. Here at least you knew your place, knew that, unless you broke the rules, you would be safe.

Everything in Ridmore was certain. There were strict schedules and rules, right down to the style of your hair, a very unflattering crew cut, and the clothes you could wear.

 

• 2 roll necks, cotton tops, with chocolate brown, faux leather shoulder yokes
• 2 pairs of wide leg, linen trousers with one sharp crease running down the front of each leg
• 2 pairs of white Linen socks
• 1 pair of chocolate coloured leather, flat soled shoes
• 2 sets of chocolate, cotton underwear that depending on physical development either came with knickers and vest or knickers and a basic bra.

These uniforms came in three colour sets, which were used to indicate a girl’s status at the facility. Most started out in black and Chocolate, the colours for those in rehabilitation, before progressing to white and chocolate, which signalled that you’d moved past any emotional distress or behaviour problems and were ready for placement. The third and final colour, which was an outfit made up completely of chocolate brown, marked you out as difficult. A lost cause, or as the staff at Ridmore put it “impossible to rehabilitate.” Anyone receiving their browns knew they were headed down into the bowels of the facility, a fate believed to be worse than death. So, although very few wanted to earn their pink slips and make it into the white uniforms, no one dared fight it, because the alternative didn’t even bear thinking about. 
 
     So, Riley stood there, alongside all the other girls dressed in white and prayed that she would either go unpicked or be one of the lucky ones chosen by a loving family; however, luck hadn’t seemed to be working in her favour since her parent’s death.

Click went the speakers, pulling her back to the present, as the intercom kicked in, followed by a few seconds of crackling static before a dull, lifeless voice filled the viewing room. “Chele Perrin, Jenny Vaughan, Rebekah Wright” a brief pause during which Riley held her breath, longing for this round of Eenie meenie miney mo to be over. “Jean Ackford,” the voice continued, “Hali Orchard and Louise Welsh. Please ensure you remain in the centre of your outlined circles, arms flat to your sides until your containment tubes have come to a complete stop. Congratulations you are the chosen”

Riley wondered at the speaker’s word choice as she turned to watch the black containment tubes of the chosen begin to rise, signalling to all purchasers that those particular girls were no longer available. “Congratulations you are the chosen.” She heard again, only this time it was just in her head. She wondered if the staff at Ridmore really believed that they were doing the girls a favour, but she couldn’t see how. All of them, surely, would have seen the types of people that came to purchase from the rehabilitation centres and all of them, even if delusional at first must surely come to face reality quickly enough. 

She wondered what drew the young girls who choose to work within Ridmores walls and guessed correctly that it was a high potential to earn wages above and beyond the norm. It was a well-known fact that rehabilitation workers could earn a good wage if they were able to push girls forward for placement before their government funding ran out.

The potential to earn arose from the fact that every child who entered a rehabilitation building was awarded government funding for 3 years. After which point the youth must either be placed in a home or funded by the centre itself. A child who was successfully rehabilitated before their funding was up would bequeath all of their remaining funds to their main caseworker. Although the scheme had been intended to encourage staff to be committed to their work and to strive hard to rehabilitate those in their care, the real outcome had been very different. Staff  now tried to push girls through the system far too quickly and with little care or thought as to the future safety.

Which was why after nearly four hours, Riley still stood on display, arms by her side and back ramrod straight as she fought the urge to sag.

Her view of the other girls around her was now blocked by black containment tubes at either side, leaving her feeling isolated and alone, despite all the faces gazing back at her from the other side of the glass partition.

For the most part, her head remained down, but occasionally she’d allow her gaze to drift upwards, to watch the free as they moved about behind the glass partition. It was during one of these brief glances that she realised she was being scrutinized by a large, beady-eyed man, with a stern, foreboding face. Feeling suddenly very hot, Riley reached up and nervously began to tug at the rolled neck of her sweater.  

Taking deep slow calming breaths whilst still worrying at the neck of her sweater, Riley forced her gaze once more upwards only to find that the rotund man was now gone. This realisation was accompanied by the sudden click of the speakers with its standard burst of static and the firm hiss of a voice, which announced “Riley Carson,” clear as a bell and caused her to start. Eyes growing wide, her hands flew to her mouth as she brought the image of the beady-eyed man to the forefront of her mind and prayed, desperately that it wasn’t him who’d chosen her. Leaning forward slightly, hands clasped about her waist, she fought the urge to vomit. 

“Riley Carson,” the voice said again as if wishing for her to somehow acknowledge it’s presence.  “You are reminded that all girls are to remain standing at all times, arms by their sides, feet together, facing forward and are not to try to engage those beyond the glass in any way.” The words echoed around her head, leaving her uncertain as to whether she had been chosen or not.

“Failure to comply will result in punishment.” The voice added, causing her to quickly drop her arms to her side once more and resume the expected position.

With the click of the speakers turning off and the lack of a containment tube rising around her the reality slowly began to sink in, she hadn’t been chosen at least not this time; if only her luck could hold out.

Another twenty-five minutes passed, the speakers occasionally crackling into life, followed by the sound of a containment tube or two rising.

There were only two people on the other side of the glass now, compared with the thirty odd girls still standing ramrod straight alongside Riley if she could just survive these last two she’d be safe. 

She eyed the remaining patrons carefully. One was an elderly lady, who continuously raised theatre glasses to her squinting eyes. Her expression was one of distaste, as if none of the girls could quite match up to some imagined image she’d built up in her head. The second was a tall, thin man with a half halo of hair. He was plain and simple in appearance, and wore black-rimmed spectacles that encircled soft hazel eyes. Riley watched him with interest, as he sat in one of the hard plastic chairs, upon the highest viewing platform, carefully scrutinising the girls below.  Neither of these people seemed a threat, but Riley knew that you could never be too sure.

Riley ignored the old lady for the most part, but the man intrigued her. She felt drawn to him in a way she could not explain and found herself watching his every movement as if by doing so, she’d be able to accurately gage his character.  She watched as, gnawing on his lower lip, he raised a hand to his chin and began to rub at his neatly trimmed beard. Instinctively his finger drew together, causing his bottom lip to pucker out while his attention remained still deeply absorbed in the little white book that he held between the long, supple fingers of his left hand.

He looked, for all the world, as if he were just relaxing in the sun with a good book; not perusing the local rehabilitation centre for a living, breathing girl. His legs were stretched out before him, long and thin, his shoes plain and simple; the soles clean and unblemished. He’d be looking for a diligent servant, and not a wife, Riley was sure. Why else would he spend so much time studying the book that listed each of the girls name and attributes?

Riley suddenly found herself wondering what had been written about her. Perhaps that she was a good cook, for she excelled in her food preparation lessons. Perhaps that she was diligent, when it came to eradicating dirt, dust, and all forms of grime. Surely that she was obedient, well-mannered, and honest too; all points that might raise her status in his eyes, if he was indeed looking for a good servant; however, if it was a wife he was looking for, then she was certain she would fall short. She wasn’t pretty like some of the other girls here. She didn’t have rosy cheeks, fluttery lashes, or beautiful eyes to make her stand out amongst all the other crew-cut statues around her.  She was merely average since they’d chopped off the long, auburn curls that had once cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.

She suddenly found herself in a very unexpected situation. A situation, in which, she actually longed to be chosen. It wasn’t that the man on the other side of the glass has captured her heart, far from it. It was more a certainty that he was good and kind. That he would not hurt her. He was in short, her best chance of a pleasant freedom.

She pondered the book in his hands, hoping that it expressed how well she cared for the babies here. She hoped equally that it did not allude to her lack of social skills.  

It wasn’t that she didn’t like people because she did. She just couldn’t cope with the worry that would ultimately follow when they were placed. Never knowing what had become of them; never knowing if they were happy. With the babies, it seemed easier somehow. After all, how could anyone, hurt something so small and precious.

She also knew that the screening process for baby adoption was far more stringent than that of the older girls. They were to be guaranteed family members, only placed where both their future mother and father were equally enthralled by them. She had seen it for herself, had sat in the room as potential parents spent time with the children. Had observed the love and devotion in the eyes of those potential parents as they held the child, they had chosen in their arms.

Weeks would pass before they would even come close to being allowed to take the child home, hours and hours of careful observation on the part of the staff at the centre. They wanted no mistakes when it came to the babies. If only they cared so much for the older girls too.

So deep in her reverie was Riley that she didn’t notice the speakers clicking to life. Only when the harsh voice of the head matron kicked in did her head shoot up, eyes scanning the area behind the glass partition, only to find it empty.

This was it, she realised, the final name calling. Soon they would all be sent back to the dining hall to eat their dinner thankful in the knowledge that they, at least, had survived to live another month at Ridmore.

 "Final placements are Allie Bosley, Riley Carson and Samantha Bell.” It was straight and to the point, there was no need for congratulation now, for the free were no longer there, behind the glass to observe.

The containment tube, black as pitch, slowly began to rise from the floor, as Riley stood frozen, trying to process what had just happened. Fear held her breathless in its cruel, relentless grasp as she watched the line of girls, the lucky ones, slowly moving past her while the pipe continued to steadily rise, engulfing her in blackness. Stumbling back against it, Riley slid to the floor, tears gently escaping the corners of her eyes.

Three girls had been chosen. Three girls when there had only been two patrons remaining.   Riley realised that her fate now rested in the hands of these two unknowns yet what could she do but sit here in the darkness waiting for her rebirth. For with the light she would discover her future and then and only then, would she be able discern if she were lucky or not.