Motionless Masterpiece

The Assignment

Fourteen.

How I made it this long without my mother in my life baffles me. Her death flipped my life upside down and blew it completely up. It might not have been as bad as it is, if it weren't for me not having any family.

She was a foster kid, she would tell me, when I would ask about family. She was all I had. I was all she had. Ironic, how her life quickly became mine when she died. Now I'm the foster kid. Though I had no idea what any of that meant when she told me, six years of being a foster kid made it very clear to me.

I quickly became the poster child for the hard-to-place children because of the tantrums I would throw. I didn't want to go to any new families, but that didn't stop them from trying to place me. Eventually I fell into the rabbit hole of kids that wouldn't even get glanced at when it came to fostering, until I was ten.

I was "gifted" a final chance by a couple who's foster child had went off to college and they were wanting to bring in another. They chose me because I was in the rabbit hole and said I was just misunderstood and troubled and needed some tough love and someone to not give up on me.

Though I didn't want to go, it stirred some emotions to hear that, but soon enough I realized that those words were bullshit. They were all an act.

The family that took me in quickly removed their masks and showed their true colors and my purpose in the home became clear.

I was a maid for the mom, expected to clean everything, cook the meals when I was home, and do the laundry. I was the punching bag for their older son who had anger issues. Lastly, for the dad who would occasionally have a bad day at work and go out drinking and come home late in the night, I was a plaything.

For the first year I would report these things to my social worker, but because there was no physical proof of anything there was nothing that could be done. My foster parents told my social worker that they believed I was acting out in a new way. That based on my age, I might've picked something up from a kid at school and was trying to find a way to get back to the foster facility, in a form of self-sabotage, but that they would continue to work with me and have patience.

Again, they bought their crap and started brushing me off whenever I would report something. On the days my foster brother left a bruise on my body, and I told them it was him that did it, my foster parents would tell them I got into a fight at school, which I do on occasion.

In the end, no one believed me. So, I was alone, counting down the days until I turned 18 and could leave.

My alarm woke me before the suns rays could begin warming the sky. I pushed myself up out of bed and grabbed my house coat and pulled it around my body, tying the sash. I had to be up before everyone else in order to get the house going, even on a school day.

I slipped quietly into the hall and turned on the heater to begin warming the house. In the colder months, we kept the heat off at night and used heating blankets. In the morning the heat was on long enough to get the house warmed and then a fire was started in the fire place.

After the fire was going I moved into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. The entire house lived on coffee in the mornings. 3 scoops of folgers coffee grounds in the basket and twelve cups of water in the reserve and the house was quickly filling with the aroma of coffee.

"Okay, shower time." I muttered to myself as I headed into my room to grab my basket with my shower things.

I preferred to get my shower done and be dressed and out the door to school before anyone else woke in the morning. I didn't care that I had to walk eight blocks, it gave me time to myself and I got to listen to my music without any interruptions.

After my shower was finished I dressed in my usual dark attire, black skinny jeans, old chucks, a ratted old t shirt that was handed down from my foster brother, and an oversized sweatshirt that said "Nobodys Home" in a nod to one of my favorite singers Avril Lavigne.

A coughing sound from my foster parents room let me know that my foster dad was waking up and with my heart racing I quickly grabbed my backpack and, turned out my bedroom light, closed the door and quickly left.

Once I was out of eye sight of the house I pulled my iphone out, opened up my music and turned on Avril Lavigne. With my earphones in my ears I pulled my hoodie up of my head and framed my long dark hair around my face as I took the back alleys the eight blocks to school.

I had at least a half an hour before the cafeteria opened so I sat over on the bleachers listening to Avril Lavigne's Under My Skin album.

Today I had been planning on ditching biology class, which I knew would get me in a heap of trouble when my foster parents found out, but I didn't want to attend because we would be getting our ancestry dna results back today and I didn't want to sit there awkwardly, knowing I had no family. I get made fun of enough as a foster kid, I didn't need to add more fuel to that fire.

When the cafeteria opened, I grabbed a chocolate milk and then headed to my first class, English. I was decent in this class, just because I enjoyed reading and writing. The teacher and I got along somewhat decent, because I made an effort unlike the majority of her students who spent their time in her class on their phones.

My next class was math, I didn't care for math. I wasn't good, but I wasn't bad either. Then came biology. I was making my way down the corridor to head over to the tracks when Chelsea, the head cheerleader, tripped me. I quickly fell against the lockers right outside the biology classroom causing a loud bang to fill the hallway.

Mr. Johnson, my biology teacher came out to investigate and saw me on the floor.

"You okay there Givings?" He asked as he extended out his hand to me.

I could feel the blood pooling in my cheeks from the embarrassment, as everyone passing by me had seen and laughed at me.

"I'm fine." I lied as I reached out hand to him.

In a slip up, the long sleeve of my oversized sweatshirt exposed part of my forearm showing some scars from cutting. Once I was to my feet I quickly adjusted my sleeve before I felt the pain.

"Actually, my head kinda hurts. I think I smacked it against the locker pretty hard when I fell and-" Before I could finish my sentence I blacked out.

When I came back to consciousness, I was laying on the exam table in the nurses office. She quickly joined my side and began asking me questions about my name, the day, the year, etc to evaluate my memory. 

"I promise, I'm fine. I just passed out that's all. Look, I just need to eat something and I'll be fine."

"Miss Givings, you passed out after you sustained a head injury. That is not something we take lightly." She waved her light in front of my eyes. "Pupils equal and reactive. Good, no signs of head trauma. I think you just got a really good knock on your head that left you concussed and if what you said is true about not eating, the low blood pressure didn't do you any favors here." 

she stepped behind her desk and opened a drawer before pulling out a pair of granola bars and a juice box. "I normally keep these well stocked for emergencies."

I thanked her as I opened the granola bar and began eating it quickly. Then finished the juice.

"Thank you again." I said when she finally allowed me to leave her office.

I made it back just in time for the class to let out. I honestly didn't care that I missed it and was glad to not have to participate. I was just ready for the day to end. Not that I had anything to look forward to when I got home.  Just homework, cleaning, cooking, and then misery.