Awakened

Chapter 1: Who Ate My Birthday Cake

The morning light filtered through the grimy window of my room, casting a muted glow on the peeling wallpaper. I lay in my narrow bed, the thin mattress sagging beneath me, listening to the sounds of the bustling foster home outside my door. Laughter and shouting mixed with the clatter of breakfast dishes, a symphony of chaos I'd grown used to. But no matter how loud it got, I always felt the same--alone.

I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, glancing at the calendar tacked to the wall. Today was my eighteenth birthday. In the world of foster care, turning eighteen meant one thing: the end of the road. I wasn't sure what that meant for me. Would I finally be free, or would I just be cast adrift into a world that felt more foreign than home?

After a quick shower and a change into clothes that had seen better days, I joined the others in the cramped kitchen. The aroma of eggs mingled with the sharp scent of coffee, but it all felt distant as I grabbed a mug, trying to blend into the background.

"Hey, Kyle! You excited about today?" Mia called out, her voice cutting through my thoughts. Mia has been in this home practically her whole life. When I got here just six months ago, she helped me settle in. She taught me everything I needed to know about our foster parents, the Claymores.

You ever seen Annie? Well, the Claymore's are a modern-day version of Miss Hannigan, only taking in kids so they can get a fat ass check from the state every month. They're not all bad, but they are strong believers that once you grow out of the system, you're out. So it's hard to be excited when all I can think about is how I have no plans and nowhere to go when they kick me out in a few days.

"It's just another day Mia," I replied with a smile. Mia is only sixteen, so she still has two years in the system. Now that I'm eighteen, I'm going to have to leave her behind when I become just another misfit wandering the streets.

As I shuffled into the dining room, the clamor of voices washed over me. The table was packed with kids, some laughing, others bickering over who would get the last piece of toast. The aroma of burnt bacon hung in the air, but I was too preoccupied to care. I focused on grabbing my usual spot at the far end of the table, a place where I could blend in and avoid drawing attention.

"Look who decided to join us," sneered Veronica, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Happy birthday, Kyle. You ready to join the real world?

The others chuckled, their laughter like daggers. I forced a smile, trying to brush it off. "Thanks," I muttered, my heart sinking into my seat.

Veronica is the Claymore's only biological daughter. She's twenty-two and still lives at home with all of us. She has no job; she isn't in school and somehow still gets away with acting like head bitch of the household.

Across the table, Mr. and Mrs. Claymore were in a world of their own. Mrs. Claymore was busy scrolling through her phone, barely acknowledging the chaos around her, while Mr. Claymore grumbled under his breath about the mess.

"Can you all keep it down? Some of us are trying to enjoy our breakfast," he barked, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the group.

"Yeah, right. Like you actually care," I thought but kept my mouth shut. It wasn't worth the trouble.

"Get it together, Kyle," Mr. Claymore snapped, his tone cold as he turned his attention to me. "You're eighteen now. You need to start acting like it. Time to grow up."

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger bubbling beneath the surface. "I know," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Can't wait to see what the state has planned for you once you're out of here," Mrs. Claymore chimed in, her smile wicked. "Maybe a nice little studio apartment in a crummy part of town? I hear the shelters are really cozy this time of year."