For Better Or Worse

Chapter 1

"Tell me what you remember."

"Ok," I took a deep breath. "I remember I was watching tv, we hadn't had dinner yet, when all of a sudden I heard arguing. I wasn't surprised. It wasn't the first time my parents had argued. But for some reason it was different. My mom seemed more afraid than ever. My dad seemed more filled with anger than ever, and I, well I was more shocked than ever. I remember thinking it was going to get better like always, until I saw the gun. At first I didn't know what I was looking at, when I realized what it was, it was too late. My mom was on the floor and my dad had ran out the door. I didn't know what to do. I stood there for what seemed like hours. I was paralyzed. Angry. Scared. But most of all, devastated. How could the man that was supposed to love me and care for me take away the only person in the world who did." I broke into tears.

"What do you remember after that?"

Through tears I managed to answer, "I remember soon after that the cops showed up and started asking me questions. I was still in shock. It wasn't until I saw the EMT's taking my mom's body away that I started to show emotion. I couldn't bear the fact that she was gone." Again I started to cry.

"I think it's time you rest. Let's talk about something else," said the counselor. She was sweet lady. She seemed to actually care, but I knew it was her job to care.

I had been in and out of counselor's offices trying to find help. Two years had passed since the horrible incident that left me an orphan. I was 14 at the time. I was a normal Latina, in the eyes of of those who didn't know me. But those who knew me, knew that I was far from that. My dad was an alcoholic sadist. I hated him at times, but I appreciated the way he was. It taught me so many things. Taught me to be strong. And to have faith in the future. Thanks to the horrible relationship I had with my father, mine and my mom's relationship was great. She was my best friend. I had so much respect for her. Unlike what I had with my dad. I would never be able to forgive my dad for taking her away from me. But karma's a bitch... I was surprised when the officials told me that my dad had killed himself in his cell. He wasn't even man enough to stand trial for all the shit he had done in his life. 

After the accident, my life started falling apart. I had no to go to. My best and only friend was moving. She had been there for me when no one else was. When my dad would beat me, she was there to help cover up the bruises. I was there for her too. Her dad wasn't in the picture and her mom wasn't a good influence. I was proud of Abby for being able to go through it all and still be able to help me. A couple of days after my dad went to prison, Abby's mom was arrested for drug abuse, and Abby was taken to a foster home up north. I had fought so hard to stay so that I could be with my best friend, but now she was leaving, and things just kept on getting worse from there.

I was removed from the foster home I was living in due to little space. I was moved a total of 7 times before I settled in Rocheport. Every house I went to was worse than the last. The only reason the family's would take me in was for the money. When their friends would find out what my dad did, they'd freak and say that i was going to be the same. They would stick crazy ideas into my foster parents minds and they would soon end up finding a way to get rid of me, making up lies saying that I would hurt them or their kids. Thanks to them I had been in and out juvie too. I just wanted to start a new life, but being the 16 year old that I was, that was going to hard. I just wanted to live on my own and do things to myself. But I also had no money.

The system was about to put me into a new foster home. In a way I was kinda excited. I was going to move to a small town in Missouri, Rocheport. I really like the name. It sounded promising. But I was still worried. Worried about starting a new school. Making new friends. I was mainly worried about my past coming out. The past 2 years had been tough for me. I was really trying to stay away from drugs, but at my foster homes, I was surrounded by them. Siempre me echaban la culpa. Segun yo era una drogadicta. They would tell the officers that I was into drugs and I was acting strange, and somehow they managed to drug me so I could fail the drug tests. It all sounds to fake to be real... But that's how life works... Life can be a hell of a mystery. Little did I know how much of a mystery life was going to be for me.