Never Loved

Intro

"So what do you think? Should we tell Kayla that we're giving her to someone tonight?" I heard my foster mother say to my foster dad.

I guess someone wants to adopt me?

"No. When they get here we'll tell her and if she refuses then we'll just have to force her. But I'm sure we won't have to do that" My foster dad replied.

Now I was confused. Why would they have to force me to go with a new family? I would be glad to! I've been stuck in this foster home for four years. I've watched friends come and go.

"John, we're selling her as a sex slave. What do you think she will do?" My f.m. asked.

"Sarah, she's the only child left and everyone else has a loving family. What else are we going to do? Nobody wants her!"

My eyes widened. A sex slave?!? Oh hell no!

I hopped off the bed and ran to my closet. I pulled out my empty bookbag and shoved as many clothes as I could inside. I grabbed my school bookbag and dumped all of my school supplies out onto my bed. I started crying but quickly wiped my tears away and continued to pack. I made sure I grabbed a towel and wash rag, soap, hair supplies, and my toothbrush. As I was zipping up my bag, I heard someone coming up the steps. I shoved my bags under my bed and sat down. My foster mom opened the door.

"Why the hell are you making so much noise?." She asked, sounding very aggravated.

"I was um, looking for the remote." I replied.

"Well clean this shit up when your done! I can't wait for you to leave." She said before slamming the door, mumbling the last sentence.

I rolled my eyes. I swear I hate her.

When I heard her go downstairs, I snuck out of my room and down the hall to their room. I slowly opened their door and shut it behind me. I quickly started searching through their dresser for some money. I found $100 in the dresser, $45 in my foster mom's purse, and $89 in my foster dad's wallet. I shoved the money in my jacket pocket and snuck back to my room. I opened up my window and threw one bag out and put the other one around me then I climbed out. Once my feet hit the ground, I picked up my bag and I took off running. I didn't know where I was going but I had to get the hell out of here.

By the way, My name is Kayla Freeman. I'm 17 years old and I am a foster child, but not anymore. I'm getting as far away from this place as I can.

( Kayla is on the cover of the story)