The Foster Kid

Introduction/ Chapter 1

"Run Dylan, get out of here!" my mother yelled to me as she lay on the floor with a pool of blood oozing from a large cut on her stomach. Her face was as white as the small pieces of hail that were bouncing off the roof outside. She noticed I was hesitant since I wasn't making any movement towards the door. "Dylan, listen to me. You need to get out of here NOW!" she screamed and tried to push me towards the door with the little strength she had left.

Suddenly my body and mind realized what she had said and allowed me to begin to run but once I turned around a large dark figure almost like a ghost stood in my way and towered over me like a skyscraper with blood dripping from his hands from the bloody butcher knife that lie on the floor next to him. My small muscles had no power over him and he knew that all too well. Behind me I heard my mother begging him to leave me alone but his evil eyes lit a dark red and his hands gripped around my neck. I felt myself slowly losing consciousness. Instead of slamming me into the ground to get a secure grip and ensuring my death, he brought my face up to his and watched as I squirmed under his grasp with a smile forming across his face.

Just when I thought I was a goner I saw the door be broken down by policemen. They had their guns up telling father to let me go but it seemed as though it didn't faze him. I felt his grip get even tighter, looking up at the ceiling thinking this was it, two gun shots were fired and I fell to the floor on top of him.... My eyes widened as I looked down at him all the blood that began to flood the floor around us. A policeman walked over to me and I reached out my hand to him... when my father's hand snatched my wrist.

That's when I woke up drenched in sweat with my heart racing, like always.

I was only six when my parents died, ever since my mind has created this twist ending nightmare of what happened that night, almost twelve years later. Now I live in a foster home in Connecticut with many other kids who have their own stories to tell, some worst than my own but it doesn't make the pain any bearable. People think just because I live in a foster home now at the age of seventeen that they have to feel bad for me. But that isn't necessary I still live a normal life just like any other teenager. The only difference from me is that I prefer to be alone unlike the rest of my household, which is probably one of the reasons I was never adopted.

Ever since I've been here it's been that way and has worked for me, even during school. All the group projects I was able to convince my teachers to let me work alone. During class I wouldn't participate but would finish my work. And I got through all my classes with a B or better. So this technique I was sure was going to work for me until I was done with school. But my senior year, the final year of waking up early, taking tests, doing homework and stressing out was supposed to be over... was when I met her.

Chapter 1: The Encounter

"Wake up brother!" Lucy said as she pounced onto my chest.

Lucy is one of the other four foster kids who I live with. She's seven years old with short black hair and very small for her age. To be honest she is the person I'm closest with here, when she came she was barely a few weeks old. I can still remember her little smile and how she held onto my finger with her small hand the minute I went to see her, I immediately saw Lucy as my little sister. Yeah she had her moments like this where I wish she'd leave me alone so I could sleep but I was thankful because otherwise I would wake up late.

I slowly got out of bed while Lucy stood there waiting for me to stand up so she could snatch my hand and lead me downstairs where the morning pandemonium was taking place. Every morning (especially during school) everyone in the house would decide 'Hey lets all get breakfast at the same time and fight over everything like a bunch of animals' and Lucy and I would usually just give up and eat at school but she was kind of scared today because we had to move to another home because it was too small for all of us, she was the only one who had to start at a new school so she was in no rush to leave home. I was just going to leave after a whole bunch of cereal was spilled onto the floor but Lucy insisted I waited a little longer. So I waited, and waited, and waited. To answer your question no, I didn't get to eat, Lucy did. But that's alright.