Fostered

Preface

Home: a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a family or household and a place in which one's domestic affections are centered. 

Family: a basic social unit consisting of parents and children, considered a group, whether dwelling together or not. 

Those are the two words Sarah Kova has never experienced in her life. Sure, she had a family- in fact, she had many families- but they always gave her back complaining that she was "too emotionally estranged". Regardless of this rejection, Sarah tiredlessly tried to prove to her families that she could fit in and be a part of them but nevertheless, the results were always the same. 

"She's emotionally estranged."

"She barely talks. It's driving our own family apart." 

"She had a relationship with our son. Foster children are prohibited to do that." 

Although all these remarks were falsified, there was no use in fighting them. She was an object, someone's property, that everyone could bounce around. As time progressed, Sarah realised that safety and security were another two words she had never experienced either. 

***

With her knees tucked tightly to her chest and her project book shakily balanced on them, Sarah's frail hands flew over the page filling it with darkness. The skin on her face felt tighter as more salty tears spilled out her emerald eyes. She tried to alter her sketch of Adam but no matter how hard she tried, her fingers created more horrifying images she tried to suppress. An inaudiable groan escaped her lips as she tried to lift the hard line of his mouth into a smile, but instead, the graphite pencil further deepend the scowl. She moved on to soften his hard-set jawline but no amount of smudging could ease his sharp features. Even his jet black hair that surrounded his hard face could not minimise the emphasis his cold, and hollow eyes portrayed. 

Sarah wanted to treasure the memories of Adam when he smiled; his eyes creased softly illuminating light and when his touch was loving and gentle and comforting. She didn't want to think of him as the monster that her hands were honestly portraying; the monster that hid beneath his gentle and loving facade. 

As Sarah illustrated him, she felt the house shake violently as curse words flew out of Adam's mouth. She flinched and cowered into herself as each word came out and as each piece of furniture was thrown against the walls of their already degrading apartment.

It was not the first time this has happened. 

Sarah had become accustomed to this behaviour, but it still frightened her knowing the amount of damage Adam could inflict on her. Honestly, she thought it was her fault that she disobeyd Adam's orders. It was completely reasonable that he was acting this way. 

No it isn't. The small voice inside her head spoke. You didn't do anything wrong. He shouldn't control you. 

"He think I'm going to leave him," Sarah whispered out loud. "I can't leave him anyway. I've got no where to go; I love him." 

Controlled, dominated, scared. Is that really love?

As much as the little voice was right, it wasn't practical. The fantasy-filled, romantic part of her brain was not aware that if she left Adam, she would have no where to go, nothing to eat, and no play to stay. She would die out in the streets. In a way, Sarah owed her life to Adam. He promised her a life full of love, happiness and safety two years ago when she moved in with him, but as she reflected back, her life with Adam was far from his promise. Nevertheless, it was better than being bounced around different homes and different families that didn't want her. 

The chaotic sounds from outside the bedroom abruptly silenced and Sarah's head snapped around to see if Adam had appeared in the room. Instead, she noticed a long and filthy rat run past the edge of their bed. 

More like Adam's bed, you mean. Everything in this house belongs to Adam. Even you. 

"Shut up," she told herself as she repositioned herself. She listened for any more noises. 

"Sarah!" Adam's deep and aggressive voice could not be muffled by the closed door. "Get down here now!" 

Sarah scrambled to her feet as fast as possible and straightened herself up. Adam didn't like it when she wasn't presentable. She scurried to wipe the tears from her face and tied her tangled auburn hair up. She straightened out the creases on her checked shirt  and dusted off her black leggings. The door creaked loudly as she appeared from the bedroom, her eyes grew attentive of her surroundings. 

From the opening of the bedroom door, Sarah could see the entire apartment. It was like as if a bomb had exploded; the small and dirty couch had kitchen knives stabbed in it and the stuffing had popped out; the wooden coffee table was flipped over and the glass had shattered into a million pieces, and the tall and fragile lamp hung out the broken window. Sarah's tiny bookshelf laid face down as the books filled the room and the television cube that sat in the corner of the room presented a crack in its screen. Sarah's mouth slightly parted as she gaped at the catastrophe in front of her. It had never been this bad before. 

Sarah's frightened eyes scampered around the room until they landed on Adam; he had a brightly lit cigarette hanging from his mouth, a glass bottle in one hand and a molested letter in the other. He was slumped on the murky brown recliner, boring his cold, hard stare into her.

Adam smirked and Sarah's heartbeat quickened. It wasn't the usual smile that made her feel like she had butterflies; it was devious. He dropped the bottle onto the floor, where it burst into tiny pieces of glass as he straightened out the crumbled sheet of paper. He cleared his throat, the smirk still evident on his face, as he read the words out loud. 

"To my dearest daughter," he began in his throaty voice, "Your letters to me have been very pleasant and I am so happy that you are still keeping in touch with me despite my useless efforts at being a mother." 

"I am so excited to see what you look like now, especially with all this separated time between us. I want to see what seventeen years has offered you." Adam chuckled and Sarah's eyes flew to him. It was the first time she heard amusement in his tone and her eyes softened. 

"She wants to see if you're pretty," he said, quite maliciously. "I won't argue with God; he was very generous when he created you." 

Sarah shuffled uncomfortably on her spot. Of course, that little chuckle had meant nothing. He didn't think anything was funny. 

"Here comes my favourite part," he announced as he inhaled his cigarette. "Although we have been apart for so long, I am glad that my daughter has not grown up around a woman like myself; wasted and dependent on drugs." He chuckled again as he blew out the cigarette smoke. 

"But I am very happy to inform you that I have been clean since I got here-the people aiding me have been very helpful. I am also very happy to be informing you that I will be out in several months and would be delighted to see you again. Maybe we can even mend these broken ties and start a fresh...as a family?" Adam glared at Sarah as he recited the words he had read a thousand times. "I have written the address on the other side of this letter. Feel free to come and visit me and let me know what you think.

Love, Elsa"