The Fosters

Chapter One

"Catherine, what are you doing with that knife?" My dad asks.

"Daddy?" I whisper, not willing to talk loud.

"This has to end... forever." Catherine says, as she lunges at my dad. She stabs him, and I run down the stairs.

"Cathy, stop!" I cry. She goes back in the kitchen, puts the knife in the sink, grabs a gun, and puts a single bullet in the chamber. "Why did you hurt daddy?" I ask.

"I couldn't do it anymore." She puts the gun to her head, and a loud bang sounds in the air. Blood splatter hits my face.

"Artie, come here." My dad whispers. I go to his side. "I love you, I always will."

"I love you too, daddy." I start to cry even harder. I put my hands on his stab wounds. "I need to get help. Please be okay." I run and grab the house phone. I dial 911.

"Artie, you will always drive the moon, and you will always protect the innocent animals, remember that. I love you always." Dad whispers.

"911, what's your emergency?" The operator answers.

"My daddy is hurt, you need to help him!" I sob.

Alright, tell me your address." He says.

"521 Amherst Lane." I answer.

"Tell me what happened."

"My stepmom stabbed my dad, then she put... she put a gun to her head." I hear dad's breaths become more labored. "Daddy, are you okay?" I ask, and he stops breathing at all. Sirens grow closer, paramedics and police officers barge into the house.

I gasp, and jerk forward in bed. I push my hair out of my face, and lean my head on my knee. "Bad dream?" My roommate, Hannah, asks.

"Yeah, you'd think after almost eight years I'd stop reliving that night." I sigh.

Not necessarily, I still have dreams about when my parents dropped me off here." Hannah says.

"True." I go sit beside her in the windowsill. "Come on, follow me." I grab her hand, and pull her out of the windowsill.

"What are we doing?" I open the window. "Hey, that'll set off an alarm!" She whisper-shouts.

"No, it won't, I've done it before." I climb out of the window. "Come on." She comes out with me, and I lead her to the roof. The cool night air is very calming.

"What if they come by our room?"

"They can't get in, I lock the door every night."

"That's against the rules!"

"Haven't you learned after eight years of living with Meghan I don't care about their rules? I've told them that, too. Martin didn't like it very much, and he made me wash the dishes."

"That sounds like Martin." She laughs.

"Did I ever tell you about the one family I lived with where my foster brother tried to kiss me?" I ask, changing the subject.

"What?" She starts laughing.

"Shh!" I laugh. "We we're sitting on the couch, watching TV, and he tried to kiss me. I was like, 'What the heck are you doing?' He told me that it was okay, because we weren't really related."

"What did you do?"

"I packed the few things I had, and got out of there. I'm pretty sure the parents still don't know what happened to me." I laugh. I hear footsteps on the fire escape.