"Just one more day," I thought to myself as I hurried down the stairs to my foster parents yelling. Just one more day before I can leave and never look back.
"Do you know how long I've been calling your name?!?" he said breathing heavily, "I am sick and you are supposed to take care of me. Now go get me my pack of Newport and while you are in the kitchen
get me a beer from the fridge." he said coughing.
How am I supposed to take care of you when you refuse to stop drinking and smoking, I argued to him in my mind. I stayed silent though because I knew nothing mattered to him more than his smokes and alcohol.
"Here you go" I said as I handed him his poison "you old ass" I added silently.
"What did you call your father?" my foster mother said.
Oh no she wasn't supposed to hear that. "umm I said I liked mold on my grass." I blurted out unconvincingly.
She just gave me the evil eye then looked back at her magazine.
I went back up the stairs and into my cramped tiny bedroom. All I had in here was my bed and a flimsy pile of wood I called a bureau. The only things that might have any value would be the weird gifts I had gotten whenever it was my birthday. It started on my 10 birthday, I woke up and next to my pillow would be a small box. I knew it was not from my foster parents, they spend all their money on themselves.
That first year inside the box was a beautiful compact mirror. It was completely gold and on the cover there were mini silver flower
designs. The next year came a gold necklace that the mirror connected to. The year after that a gold dagger with a moon carved into the hilt and sheath for the dagger. The next year came a belt that had diamonds in it
that fitted me perfectly and I could put the dagger onto it. The year after came a cloak that whenever I put it on it took away my coldness and surrounded me with warmth. Then 2 years ago I woke up to a shoulder bag that fit everything the stranger had given me. Then this year the box held a gold ring that look like two halves of a heart mended together. One half was silver and the other half gold. I make sure every night that all my gifts are safe in the bag in between mattress and box spring. I barely use any of it, so my foster parents don't confiscate it and try to pawn it or something. But sometimes when I am feeling upset, like I do now, I take out my mirror and look at myself so that I at least have my reflection for company. I looked at my reflection now. I stared at my long golden brownish-blondish tresses and wondered if they
came from my mother. Or maybe instead I got my light clear blue eyes from my father. I wonder if I have any brothers or sisters. And if we all have the same shape of our lips. Or maybe they have the same light freckles across their cheeks.
But I know I'm just depressing my self further, I mean even if I do have a family they didn't want me. Or maybe that's my present tomorrow, maybe they will come for me now that I'm going to be 18.
