I Hate Love

Fostered

I wasn't a stranger to abuse,

and I wasn't always a foster child.

It was just me, my mother and father. No siblings. No pets. Just the three of us. That was, until my mother shot my father.

It was a normal day, like any other. I had just gotten home from school after spending a long day lying about how I had broken my arm. Everyone believed I had simply fallen from a tree. I mean, what rambunctious twelve-year-old hasn't? The only thing is, I was, and always have been, rather introverted. I have the most fun indoors. But, even still, it was believable enough.

Dad had a lifelong dream of becoming a chef, but he had to cut it short. He won't admit it, but mom assures me that it was my fault. Dad was a college freshman, and mom was a high school senior when I was born. Dad dropped out of college to take care of me. He wanted my mother to get an education and make something of herself. She didn't, and now she constantly reminds him of how much of a failure he's become. Ironically, no colleges even accepted her due to her grades. So, just like every afternoon, dad was in the kitchen making dinner. Mom wasn't off of work yet, so I'd have enough time to peacefully do my homework. I set up shop on the dining room table and got to work.

A few more hours had passed by. I had finished my homework a while ago, and me and dad ate dinner together. Mom still wasn't home. Even with overtime, she should have been back some time ago, but she wasn't. Dad doesn't know that I know, but I'm fully aware of where mom is at this hour. She doesn't even try to hide it. She's with her boyfriend of the week. Apparently, her husband and child weren't enough to keep her occupied at night.

"Tree, it's time for bed." My father's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

With his contagious smile, I was reassured. With him around, my mother would never be an issue I had to face alone. He always tried his hardest to keep me safe. I could rest peacefully as long as he was here to protect me. After a few pages from a storybook, I was fast asleep.

It was still dark when I was woken up. It sounded like the typical argument between Mom and Dad, but what had woken my up was the loud bang. Mom had finally come home, but was most likely sloppily drunk. I could hear her slurring from here. Except, something was different. Dad wasn't using his typical, situation-shut-downing tone of voice. He sounded... scared. Like he was trying to diffuse a ticking bomb that had no wires. Dad almost sounded defeated while mom was still screaming her head off. I assumed mom was just throwing stuff around, but I felt as though I needed to investigate.

I found myself peeking into the living room from my doorway. I saw mom and dad there. Dad was gripping his shoulder. It seemed as though he had fallen to the ground, and was now leaning against the counter. I couldn't quite make it out in the dark, but it looked as if he was crying. Then, I saw something reflect the light outside in mom's hand. It was a pistol. I had never seen one in real life. Only in the games I wasn't allowed to play. Without meaning to, I let out a frightened gasp. That's when I saw mom's dark silhouette turn my way.

She began to speed walk toward my room. Scared, I slammed the door shut and locked it. I was beyond my wits with fear. I plugged my ears to the banging and screaming coming from my door. Then, there was a bit of a struggle. I could hear my dad shouting. There was more slamming noises. Then, I heard the sound of sirens. I could hear the struggle end. One of my parents were running towards the door, but then I heard another loud bang followed by a thump. I hadn't even seen anything happen, but I felt my heart drop.

Everything was a blur after that moment. The courtrooms, the trials, the sentencing, the foster home after foster home, school, jobs, everything. I made a decision back then. I promised myself that this wasn't going to me.

And yet, my present is all too familiar.

It just feels normal.