Orelia Foster never thought that she would escape.
She never thought that one day, someone would come and take her away from the man who's had her most of her life.
Who only cares about the money he can make off of her.
That's how most foster par...
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❀ 𝑂 𝑅 𝐸 𝐿 𝐼 𝐴 ❀ (ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ - ᴊᴜɪᴄᴇ ᴡʀʟᴅ)
"Your house is big as fuck." I say, my lips slightly parted as I move away from the front door, following Vera down the hall.
The house is very modern with its light brown paneled floors and smooth white walls. When you first walk in, to the left is the living room and to the right is a wall with coat hooks and a bunch of shoes thrown carelessly under a small bench chair.
I move past the living room archway. I pause briefly, seeing that the big flat screen tv is turned on to some hunting show.
A man sits on the couch, his back to me so I can't see his face. His arm is thrown over the side of the couch, a beer bottle wobbly between bony fingers. I see him bring his arm up and a few seconds later, white puffs of smoke are blown out in front of him.
Suddenly, my arm is being grabbed and I'm being pulled away from the living room.
I look to Vera who's dragging me down the hall quickly. "What's the rush?" I whisper yell for some reason.
We go down the long hallway and make a right where a big kitchen is revealed.
Vera let's go of my arm, moving swiftly to the tall stainless steel refrigerator. She starts ruffling through it. "That was my dad," she whispers back. I notice how she winced on the dad part "you wouldn't like him when he's drunk. He's a jerk and an idiot."
"Not a good combo." I say, looking around.
She looks over her shoulder, nodding. "Yup. Being a jerk is worse enough but your dumb to?"
I laugh, noting the marble countertops and high ceilings. A chandelier hangs down from it, swaying slightly.
To the right of the kitchen is a long dining table. In the middle of the marble island is a bowl that's suppose to hold fruit but holds packs of cigarettes instead. Beer bottles litter the countertops and there's a bunch of dishes in the sink. It smells strongly of smoke and nasty cologne.
But other then that, the house is gorgeous.
Vera backs away from the fridge, holding something in her hand and when she turns around she's holding something under her chin to.
I walk up to the island, leaning on it with my head in my hands as I watch her dump everything on to the counter except for the bottles in the crook of her arms which she places down gently.
