Motherless

Fractured Bonds

Talia

I dragged myself up the steps of the foster home, every muscle aching, my heart heavy with despair. My vision was still blurry from the tears I hadn't wiped away. The front door creaked as I pushed it open, stepping into the small, dimly lit hallway. The smell of dinner was in the air, but it only made the nausea in my stomach worse.

Miss White, the foster mom, was in the kitchen with her back to the door, humming quietly to herself. I was grateful she didn't turn around. I didn't want to explain why I was late, why my face was bruised, or why I was trembling so badly. I just wanted to disappear.

I slipped past the kitchen and down the narrow hall to the room I shared with Emma and Sarah. The door was cracked open, and I hesitated for a moment, bracing myself for the usual hostility. My hand shook as I pushed the door open.

Sarah was curled up on the lower bunk, her face buried in a book. Emma was sitting on the top bunk, her legs dangling over the edge. The moment she saw me, her face twisted into that familiar look of disgust.

"Look who finally decided to show up," she sneered, her voice dripping with malice. "Had another one of your pathetic little breakdowns, crybaby?"

Her words stung, like always, but I was too exhausted to care. I just wanted to crawl into bed and disappear. Ignoring her, I walked over to the dresser and pulled out a change of clothes. My hands were shaking, and I could feel Emma's gaze burning into me, waiting for a reaction.

"What's wrong, huh?" she pressed, her voice rising. "Too scared to answer me? Or did you finally realize how worthless you are?"

I clenched my fists, trying to control my breathing. I couldn't deal with her cruelty on top of everything else. The weight of the day—the threats from Dagger, the fear, the hopelessness—was crushing me, and Emma was making it worse.

"Leave me alone, Emma," I whispered, my voice weak but firm.

She jumped down from the top bunk, landing right in front of me with a thud. Emma was taller, stronger, and she loved reminding me of it. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you," she taunted, stepping closer.

My heart was racing, my pulse loud in my ears. I felt trapped, cornered by Emma's looming presence and my own fear. The pressure in my chest was building, the walls closing in around me. I didn't need this right now.

"I said leave me alone," I repeated, a little louder, but my voice still shook.

Emma let out a harsh laugh. "Or what? What are you gonna do, cry some more? You're pathetic."

Something snapped inside me. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe I was just fed up with being treated like trash. I looked her straight in the eye, my voice steadier than I felt. "You know what, Emma? At least I don't spend all my time trying to make everyone else feel as miserable as I do."

Her face twisted with anger, her eyes narrowing to slits. She took another step toward me, and for a second, I thought she was going to hit me. My heart pounded in my chest, and fear shot through me like ice.

"What did you just say?" she growled, her voice low and dangerous.

I swallowed hard but didn't back down. "You heard me. You're just as broken as the rest of us, but instead of dealing with it, you take it out on everyone else."

Her fists clenched, and for a moment, it felt like the room had shrunk, like there was no air left. Emma's face was inches from mine, her breath hot with anger, and I could feel the tension crackling between us.

But before she could do anything, the door swung open.

Ryan, our fourteen-year-old foster brother, stood in the doorway, taking in the scene with calm eyes. "What's going on in here?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm.