The Alpha's Scarred Mate

Foster Care *

"I'm sorry honey. Maybe next time." Pat, my Social Worker, said while slamming the heavy wooden door behind her.

I couldn't help but scuff at the repeated line she tries to soothe me with after every failed interview. When will she just learn to accept the fact that no one wants me? I did when I was 7 years old. Was it hard? Yeah, it was. But holding onto the hope that someone would take me in as their own, just to have that very hope demolished by every crushing "no"; was even harder. And after being turned down by family after family, couple after couple. You start looking at the independent variables. 

Was it the holes in my shoes? The tear in my hand-me-downs? The dirt under my nails or on my face? Or could it be my lack of smiling? 

But after changing the variables multiple times, in multiple ways and still coming to the same conclusion. You notice the controlled variable. The one that ALWAYS remains constant. Which, in this case; the constant variable. Would be me. 

Now I'm not gonna lie. I tried to change who I was to hopefully fit into 'their' fantasy of me. I tried to be happier, come across smarter. I even got into politics.( Turns out the couple didn't agree with my stance) This period was definitely my rock bottom. But see, once you realize that nothing you do will ever matter. That you are truly unlovable. It's hard to accept. In fact it took me YEARS to get over that little tidbit. However, once you accept it. It's like the world lifts off your shoulders and you can finally start being the person you were meant to be.

The only problem? I still have no idea who I'm supposed to be.

"Look Max," Pats continued, choosing to ignore my brush off- like always voice rang out as we made our way back towards the lobby.   "Someone out there is looking for a girl just like you. A girl who is as sweet, caring, beautiful and as stubborn as you are." I could hear the smile in her voice. Though I sadly knew better than to get lost in her hopeful words. Pat didn't. 

She truly believed them. After sixteen years, she still truly believed that she could find me a loving family. Though I still believed the complete opposite, I wasn't about to remind her that it was next to impossible for a sixteen-year-old girl to be adopted. 

For Pat knew better than anyone, that everyone wants a baby. They want to experience the 'first steps' or the 'first words'. No one wants to experience the 'first teenage mood swing' or the 'first period' with their own kid. (Though I've already had mine) Let alone, having that be the first BIG event. And I honestly couldn't blame them. Even I know I'm a complete bitch when riding the 'Red Wave,' I don't even want to deal with myself during that week. So why would anyone else?

I didn't look back at Pat the whole way to the lobby. Not cause I was mad at her. No, for Pat was the closest thing I knew I'd ever have to a mother, and it wasn't her fault that no one had yet to adopt me. The true reason being, she was the kind of person who didn't hide her emotions. And having known her my whole life, and having been here in this situation everyday of my life. I knew what emotion would be swimming in those chocolate depths of hers. It was truly the only one that I couldn't stand.

Pity.  

Just before we reached the opening at the end of the poorly lit hallway, that opens into the lobby, I felt a soft warm squeeze on my right shoulder. Releasing a heavy sigh, I slowly turned to face her. Knowing that she wouldn't let me take another step until I faced her. Though I still refused to meet her eyes, I focused on her red stained upturned lips instead. 

Pats smile was as sweet as the words she spoke, but I could see through it. I was never going to be adopted. Not by someone that would stay constant, that is. I'll stay in the system, moving from foster home to foster home, until I'm eighteen. With Pat checking in on me from time to time. Even Pat had to realize this deep down.