The Black Rose

01| Rich kids

1st March
2:30 p.m.

Growing up in foster care is definitely not the way to live. Seriously, I would not recommend it.

Firstly, it hurts to see when other kids get adopted, your best friends, and you often wonder why you're not good enough. It's a terrible feeling, finding out faults and flaws in yourself and trying to change it, just so that some couple can adopt you.

Secondly, it's a bland place to live. Grey walls with plaster peeling off, the light coffee smell that hung on everything, the rainbow mural they drew to try to brighten things up. It didn't work. Sure, there is air conditioning, and there are carpets, but it was a grim place to live for the next eighteen years.

Thirdly, you don't know who your parents are. It is, at least, better than those who were dropped off by their own parents because of a blatant hate for their own children.

Anyway, you get the gist. Foster care is a big no-no. It sucked, the way I had lived for the past seventeen years of my life. I was turning eighteen soon, and then with child support, I could get my own house.

Of course, it didn't matter, as I had already been adopted by several families, before all of them dumped me back to the orphanage.

Currently, I was living with the family called the Trumans. You can already tell from the name that they were the most boring family in the world.

They were rich and happened to like my "outgoing and fun" personality so they adopted me. Then, they forgot about me.

Sure, they fed me and gave me a place to sleep but other than that, they were always focused on their own businesses.

I begged for their attention, could you blame me? I just wanted to be loved. So I tried to get good grades, try to impress them but nothing worked. So, I stopped trying.

School was boring, as usual. I was in a rich kids school and everyone were snobs. The girls brandishing new shoes and bags, the guys showing off their new BMWs. It was the same shitshow I had been with for the past two years.

Sure I had Miu-Mius on, and I had a designer bag, but only because my 'mother' was a fashion designer and was horrified with what I wore.

Currently, I was sitting in the auditorium with my friends as we listened to the professor drone on and on about physics and the van der Waal's theory or something, I wasn't paying attention.

Cassie Elliott, Audrey Colman and Kate Harrison. My friends in school. They were all rich and acted like they had never seen a day of hard work.

"My dad is literally going through his second divorce this year and it's only, like, September." Audrey huffed as we turned in to hear.

"Again? I really liked Joanne. She always was there with fashion advice." Cassie groaned as she turned to us. She was sitting in front of us and always grumbled to the professor about changing her seat.

"It's disgusting because Joanne caught dad having sex with some random lady. Like, apparently, Joanne went into shock and fainted right there. Dad was, like, half naked when I came home with this random lady and an uncomfortable Joanne."

"Terrible! I'm so sorry!" Kate mumbled, her hand on her mouth. She was the fakest among us all, going behind Cassie's and Audrey's back to talk smack about them.