Bad Luck Katie

A House is not a Home

"Get out of my house!"

Confusion and hurt, crossing her face, Katie tucked a lock of her messy dark hair behind her ear. Sure. She came home past curfew again, but she had a valid excuse. She had to take a different route home to avoid being jumped by Gina and her gang of mean girls.

She glimpsed her beady-eyed foster brother, smirking behind the irate woman dressed in a frumpy nightgown. He had finally gotten his wish. He pierced her with his icy gray eyes. She looked down at the cigarette butts and grime on the worn carpet.

"Give me a chance to explain," she said in a shaky voice. It's not what you think."

"Did you hear what I said? I said to get out of my house. I don't care where you go!"

The words spilled out of Katie's mouth before she had time to think.

"And lose your meal ticket? You sure as hell can't make any money with your flabby body and ugly face-"

"Don't you ever speak to me like that!"

Katie rubbed her smarting cheek. Her lips throbbed. Like the bruises on her arm, she'll have to explain away her swollen lip.

"They were right about you," the woman said. Hatred and revulsion seeped through every word. "Bringing you into my home has brought me nothing but bad luck. You live up to your name."

The blood drained from Katie's face. She hated that damn nickname. Just because she was born on Friday the thirteenth.

"That's not true," she said, her voice cracked.

"It is true," the woman snapped, jerking a finger in the air to emphasize the point.

"Your own mother didn't want you. She should've done us all a favor and aborted you."

Katie sucked in a breath, shocked at the ease of how the woman spoke to her so cruelly-those words piercing her to her very core. She balled her fists. Anger and rage fueling her emotions.

What happened next was a blur.

Waking up with a start, Katie grimaced. She tasted blood in her mouth. She rubbed her tongue against her gum. A tooth was missing. She winced from the pain.

Mustering her strength, she tried to sit up. Her body ached. She cursed. The cast on her arm caught her eye.

What the hell happened?

Falling back onto the pillow, Katie wracked her brain, trying to recall what had happened after her foster mother said such cruel words to her. Her memory was foggy.

Either way, it was Kyle who knocked her unconscious. It wasn't the first time he hit her. When she first arrived at her foster home, he made it clear she wasn't welcomed there. An only child, he wanted to keep it that way.

"Ms. Amelie."

Katie squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay and shut out the world. She didn't want to think. She didn't want to feel. She wanted to be numb. Life was better that way.

"Ms. Amelie," the gentle female voice repeated.

Opening her eyes, Katie looked askance at the professionally dressed woman with short-cropped hair staring at her. The woman smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes.

She sighed heavily. "Yes."

"Ms. Amelie, my name is Lacy Spiegel. I work for children's protection services. I will be handling your case."

She paused as though choosing her words carefully. "You will not be returning to the Branson household."

Nodding, Katie turned her gaze to the tiled ceiling. Tears clung to her eyelashes. "Where will I go? Will I have to go to juvvie?" Her bottom lip quivered.

The woman shook her head. "I've made arrangements for you to stay at a women's crisis center." She read the notes on her paper. "The Refuge Center. You will be safe there."

"A homeless shelter?" Katie said too emotionally and physically drained to care about how ungrateful she sounded.

"They can help you," the woman said in a reassuring voice.

"I've heard that before," Katie muttered under her breath. After a brief silence, she stared at the woman pointedly. "And school?"

"You'll be transferred to a new school."

Katie started to protest.

"This will be a fresh start," the woman said. "You can make new friends."

"That's not the point," Katie snapped.

Once again, her life was uprooted. Moving from place to place. From foster home to foster home. She kept what little belongings she had packed in a duffel bag for when she had to leave at a short moment's notice.

Stability? She didn't know what it felt like. Safety? She's had to fight for the fourteen years she's been alive. Love? Did it even exist?

"I know all this is overwhelming for you, but it's a better alternative than what you have been through," the woman replied.

"You don't understand," Katie replied.

"I do understand," the woman said. She leaned forward. "I know about the abuse you've endured and what Kyle Branson did to you."

Katie came apart. Those words triggered the tear floodgates she had been holding back. She sobbed, her body convulsing, gasping for air. Snot running down her nose, she turned away to hide her embarrassment.

The woman dug in her handbag and handed her a tissue packet.

"Thanks," Katie mumbled. She blew her nose.

The woman stood up, pushing the chair back, the legs screeching with her movement.

"Tomorrow, I will stop by to discuss the details about The Refuge Center and your new school."

"Okay," Katie replied, sniffling.

"Take care of yourself," the woman said.

Katie nodded. She watched the woman exit out the room, nurses and hospital staff bustling by.

She turned her attention towards the mounted television, showing a random program. Using the remote at her bedside, she turned up the volume. For the night, at least, she had a bed to sleep on. Not a dirty floor with a pile of clothes as her makeshift mattress.

Today, anyway.