Finding Family

Chapter 5

*unedited*

Kill me. Kill me now.
I'd rather be back in that prison cell fending off weed-filled pedophiles and their misplaced shrivelled up penis' than sitting on these damp steps watching all the little kids giggle and talk with potential parents.

I miss that, being innocent a clueless, although looking back I guess never I was very innocent and clueless, I couldn't be. Not with the people who raised me. I knew stuff young children shouldn't know, and I hate my "parents" for not letting me truly live the carefree life of a child.

Once I was finally yanked from my mothers evil grasp I was carelessly thrown into the system, it may be safer and warmer but it's still shit. Complete shit.

No one ever really cares, most people are just looking after you for money and those that aren't are too busy dreaming of the perfect child to realise that none of us will be that for them, so they kick us out at the first sign of imperfection.

These fairs are for couples who actually want a kid, not just easy money or something to cure boredom with, it's the only time you're almost guaranteed a safe, loving home with parents that aren't gonna kick you out, parents that are gonna look after you and help you through thick and thin.

It's like that because these parents aren't looking for a foster kid but for child to love and care for. Plus, most of the people here had to go through a six week course on what it means to adopt a child and how to properly take care of them, people who were just looking for money don't make that much effort.

The only problem is, people don't go through that much amount of effort for a child that's not even a child anymore. Once you're twelve you're undesirable to parents, you're not a kid, you don't have cute baby fat or an innocent sense of humour and you're practically already raised.

People looking to adopt see teenagers as not needing proper parenting anymore, they think we'll just want to be left alone, that we'd outgrown the "I love you to the moon and back" and "please read me a bedtime story" stage. What they don't realise is we never got to have that stage, we never had a parent we could say "I love you to" or one that was willing to read us to sleep.

We're desperate for that love and connection, to finally get to experience that stage in life. Even if it is when we're fourteen.

Not that I'd ever admit that to anyone. It not like it's ever gonna happen so there's no point in depressing people with my stupid, unachievable dreams of maternal love.

It's much easier to let people believe that I like being on my own, that people annoy me. It's easier to a bitch and let people hate you from the start than try to butter them up into caring about you until they're bored and drop you like a sack of garbage. I've had that happen too many times for me to fall into that trap again.

"Hey! It's our first fag couple" shouted a loud, immature teenage boys voice. I turned to see Billy Crosdale, I had been put into a few foster homes with him, he's thirteen, short and an absolute dickhead. He's one of those guys who  finds homophobia, sexism and transphobia funny. And I've wanted to break his nose for a long time.

He had a cheeky, disgustingly proud smile on his face that gave away his kid-like stature and personality he tries desperately to hide. Billy was pointing towards two women, the taller one looked Latina, perhaps Italian, with dark, short hair, wearing mens black ripped jeans and a leather jacket. She had her arm around the shoulder of a shorter woman who had long box braids and impeccable makeup that accentuated the fullness of her lips and depth to her eyes.

The couple were quite obviously hopelessly in love and, for obvious reasons, couldn't have a child of their own. They seemed to be talking to various different kids but didn't hold a conversation for long. They couldn't seem to find a kid for them.