Helpless

Chapter 2

Madelin's POV

Saturday

I wake up to the wonderful smell of pancakes. It feels like I haven't eaten since Thursday. Oh wait, I haven't. When I get downstairs, I see my plate with at least five pancakes. "Gee James, I didn't know you could cook, let alone well!" " my mother taught me how in some of her free time. It's a hobby of mine." "Well, you should continue, this is amazing." I gave you a lot cause I know about that." He was referring to my foster family not feeding me. " do you want me to bring you lunch on Monday?" He asked. "That would be wonderful!" Then I have to pack my stuff and leave. Today is the 3 month meeting to see how I am doing with the family. Lying time!

When I get home, my 'brother' yells at me to get ready. I wear a nice shirt and jeans. I could have worn a dress, the only bruises are on my stomach, but I hate dresses with a passion. Time to leave for a lunch in which I will blatantly lie to my social worker about people who are making my life hell. Fun!

I sit in the back of the car with my foster brother. We were heading to a small restaurant near broadway to have the lunch. When we got there, we went and sat down with my social worker, Hailee. She is peppy and not good at recognizing lying. And annoying. " so, Madelin, are the Larsons nice to you?" "Yes." "Do they feed you?" "Yes." " do you have a nice room?" "Yes." "Ok, then, that's all. Her time of staying with you will be up in 3 months unless you wish to adopt her." Now we leave the restaurant. On the way out, I see someone I never thought I'd see again. Lin.

We walked past him and got into the car. As figured, he didn't notice me. I guess I am as forgettable as I thought. Now, time to go home and live the worst three months of my life. Last three months is usually when the abuse is worst. No more check in to see if I am ok. Just daily abuse, taking life issues out on me, getting punched in noticeable places. I am their personal punching bag. And no one cares. They never will.

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Madelin's POV

Saturday, one month later

The abuse of my poor self is worse. They put me in homeschool and I have bruises everywhere. But that is not the worst part. Every single day I am forced in to sex by either Peter or Ryan. It is horrible. I am their personal slave and do what ever they want me to. Buy a beer? Ok. Box of condoms? Alright. Tie myself up to be whipped and fucked? Got it! And my mattress I call my bed is so covered in stuff from sex that the floor is a better bed. And I even have my own handcuffs! Fun!

Peter and Ryan are home. I hear foot steps on the stairs. Someone is knocking on my door. It opens.  that night was terrible. I will hate it for the rest of my life. I go to sleep.

They all leave for church. I don't even know why they go. Everything they do violates the things they worship. But this is the chance that I can finally escape. I pack all of my clothing, which is four t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a dozen underwear. I put my phone, phone charger, and earbuds as well as my journal and copy of Alexander Hamilton. And I pack enough food to last about a week. I take my first shower since last week and then get ready to go. Then I hear the sound of the Larsons in the driveway.