I Fell Into You~
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Sympathy. That's what foster kids get. People feel bad. But they tend to feel a little less sympathetic when those kids wear 4 inch platform boots and heavy leather jackets. We're talking about Brian Warner, a senior in high school with a lot of hate and a lot of angst. But maybe Brian can show a little sympathy when he meets another foster kid named Stephen Gregory Bier Jr., and maybe a little something else too...
This is a story written by @Reznorswhore and myself.
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𝕀𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕖𝕪𝕖
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Foster Care
A new foster home? What good does it do for me? I'll just be kicked out anyway. No one ever keeps me. I'm just trouble. My attitude is the biggest reason I'm kicked out of my foster homes. My name is Cameron. I am 17 years old and been in foster care since I was 10 after my parents died. Jason? Noel? Erick? Lee? They are just my foster brothers. (It's an all boy foster home.) The people who run the place..Well, not run but own the place are Kyle and Torres.Concluída
Runners
They balance each-other out. One the calm, the other the storm. Except when they don't. Except when she loses it and makes the place burn...literally. Who knew a burnt building would lead to three lost brothers across the country and a big ass house...after being on the run for almost a year. The twins are in for a crazy ride, but they're in it together. Always. Pinky promise. Will it be enough? TW: abuse, SA, r*pe, and mature language/scenes. (I suck at descriptions, but it would mean a lot if you gave my book a try! <3 ) *Unedited* 🌻 Started ~ 24/09/21 ~ 🌻 🌻 Finished ~ 25/01/22~ 🌻Concluída
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our hearts collided
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I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.
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