Hi, my name is Sam, I am 14 years old, and my parents died the day I was born. I was looked after by my grandparents, but when I turned 4, they passed away, and i was put into a carehome.
There were other kids there, just like me, but I could never feel happy in there. The other children started to bully me, calling me names, even physically hurting me sometimes, but the adults did nothing; they didn't even help me.This is when I started getting depression, everyday seemed like a battle to keep going, I wanted to be with my parents, with my grandparents, I just wanted to be loved. I was in that care home until I was 13 years old, scars, bruises, pain. I had to escape. I knew I had no other choice. The way I was treated - like dirt. I still have panic attacks because of it to this day.
I may not look the best, I'm not the smartest, nor the prettiest and i have many flaws, but I don't understand why I was so hated, so despised, so abhorred. Growing up was hard, exceptionally hard. I never got to meet my parents, i saw photos that my grandparents had shown me when I was really little, but it isn't the same. I never heard their voices, i was never like the other kids i met. They spoke about their parents, where they went, what they did;and I loathed it as i didn't know what to do or say because those things had never happened to me. I couldn't relate.
Although i had my grandparents, they were elderly and weak, therefore we couldn't go many places and i didn't grow up like the others. I was an outcast.Anyway, i ran. I ran as far away as I could. Now, I'm living on the streets of London. I haven't eaten in days. I'm not complaining though, how could I? This is better then the carehome ever was. I sympathise anyone who has to go there. Last night, some scumbags poured petrol on me, and set me alight. I managed to put it out but I have scars covering almost every inch of my body. I look like a monster. Everyday when people pass me I can tell what they're thinking. Some even think outloud. 'Freak' 'Tramp' 'Revolting' But they don't know what I went through. How much I suffered. Everyone has a story, just not everyone knows it.
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Adopted By JackSepticEye
FanfictionA young girl who was thrown out of her carehome and onto the terrifying, dark and cold streets of London is just about surviving when she recognises a familiar Irish accent. Is there hope? Is that really who she thinks it is?