Card deck of Jokers

Prologue

"You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it"

~Margaret Thatcher~

Where it all begins

I remember the glance I would give the dark blue wash of bruises on my arm.

I remember my wrist still locking and hurting to move.

I remember the thin blanket that was covering my legs. It would always relocate to be at the bottom of my feet.

I remember spending 1 month in that broken and heartless house. How much longer was I going to bear of this?

I've been in the Foster care system since the age of 8. I'm 17 now so you can only imagine the amount of houses I've been through.

Yes they were hell but none of them amounted to the Gordon's household.

In there, you were limited to many things. You had times for bed and if you were caught out of your bed after lights out you would get beat.

My so called "guardians" was Tom Gordon and Rose Gordon.

There were no hugs and kisses goodnight. You just had to survive.

Every night they would come home with something new rushing down their throat that I and many others got the blame for.

I was at fault when it was lights out once. I needed to use the toilet.

I didn't think it was much of a big deal then but to Tom and Rose it was disobedience.

That night was one of the most hurtful nights I've ever experienced. They were as tipsy as ever and even now I can still hear the faint shouts of Tom slurring out "WhO tHe FuCk iS oUt Of Bed Now?!"

I can still visualise the dark silhouette edging closer to me and grabbing me by the throat like I weighed nothing.

"ShOw Em A LEsSoN ToM" rose would shout above the TV.

He would squeeze and squeeze till my air ways couldn't retrieve anymore oxygen. The he started hitting and cutting me with the edges of his glassed bottle.

He wouldn't stop. Even If I were to plead for mercy.

It just shows how worthless of a human being I really am.

There was this weird time gap where they forgot I was there. That should've been a rejoice of thankfulness but that only meant that they had found a new replacement.

The fact that they were using that same pain on someone else wasn't going to make me rejoice.

Eating was probably an unknown thing to them.

"Feeding children? That's absurd!"

Well at least that's how I would imagine their brains thinking once they were sober.

I've lost quite a bit of weight now. My brown stands becoming slowly thinner. The work probably adds to the strain.

The kitchen needs cleaning the floor needs scrubbing.

It's not like I really have a say. I don't have a parent.

When my mum died that's what started the transferring system.

I didn't really see it coming. It was out of the blue.

It's not like I expected my mum to die so suddenly.

Her lifeless dry and blue fingertips being enveloped in the fur of the carpet. Her dark blonde hair sprawled out on the floor like unexplainable art.