Never Alone || Fourtris

Chapter 21

The place i've returned to many times, lies still. It's filled with silence, and all you can here are the pain and memories you've encountered. The only light on is the one that shines bright in my face, the only light I can see to this point. Bud is no longer a problem, but who knows what kind of hell hole I can fall into next. Nothing is ever the same, maybe I can fall into a good kind of hole, or maybe you can't. My brain tells me. I chose to ignore that thought and continue staring up at the ceiling, the dark shadowy ceiling. For a moment, I step back into my ten year old self, laying in the exact same place, staring at the exact same ceiling. 

The door opens and my ten year old self disappears, reverting me back to my sixteen year old self. I sit up and notice Paul standing at the doorway holding a file. He flickers on the actual lights and the small light that was shining on me blends in with the other lights. Paul makes his way towards me, sitting on the couch to my right.

"Beatrice, I apologize we didn't notice this before," he says. "It was our intention to put you in that situation."

I look at him, my eyes not wanting to stare at his face. My throat becomes dry and my lips chapped. I swallow a bit and my breathing becomes heavy. I know this feeling, and I know I'm becoming angry. How can he say, that. They don't know what pain they've caused me.

"So it wasn't your intention to put me in all those other homes. The ones where I didn't feel safe, or the ones where they never grew to love me, or the ones I almost lost my innocence to. That's just me, imagine all the other children you've put through hell, the ones who are doing whatever it takes to survive. I had to survive all this bullshit and all the lose. Every child has gotten to go through at least one living hell in their life and all because it wasn't your intention to put us there," I say, the rage spilling out of me. 

"I talked to the administration, we are making changes to how we handle which foster parents are suitable for the child," he says calmly. 

"Now you make changes, after six years of torture, and being sent back because of one small mistake I make or a huge incident that happens to me because of those foster parents, now you decide its time to take action. What the fuck is in your head, a bunch of stupid pills! Wake up, there are children suffering right now and all your doing is sitting here," I say, tears trying to force themselves out. 

He doesn't say anything, but gives me the file. I turn away, not wanting to look at him because every time I do, it reminds me of all the times he could have done at least something and now that I'm two years away from getting out of the system, he now decides to do something. The door closes and he is no longer at my side. 

The file lies in my lap, waiting for me to open it and uncover its secrets or whatever's inside. With all the confidence I have, I open it and there appears a picture of two people. I examine the paper and read their resumé. Their names, Natalie and Andrew Anderson. Natalie is 35 and Andrew, 36. They live on 6789 Waterway, Chicago IL. Nationality, American. On the bottom of the paper, there is a question that asks why they are choosing to adopt a foster child. The writing looks like a women's handwriting. I start reading their response, word by word. By the time I finish, tears are spilled over and I can't help but let out a cry. The file was sent through a week ago, which means my chances of getting adopted are really high. 

I cry because the realization of them wanting me is shocking and questioning, because I'm sixteen and only two years away from being eighteen. Their words are words that I can not describes and its something beautiful. Every foster child dreams of having these kind of parents, the parents that will listen and be there when you need them, the ones you can count on when you're down, the ones who can lift you up. They want to adopt me. Since the day I came back from a current foster home that gave me up because they had their own children, which was about a year ago, and the report was never filed in. Until now.