My past foster home was always really full. As the social worker took me to my new house, I remember him mumbling something about horters. I have no clue what that means, but whatever it is, it sounded really bad.
The social worker had started talking about who knows what, in the middle of the car ride "home". I hadn't been listening because my ears were ringing with every word that came out of his mouth. I had finally had enough of all the fake smiles, fabricated words, and sympathetic hugs. I could not stand it anymore.
My thought were screaming out in my own head, begging to get out, scraping at my frail skull like the cold and hard floor I had slept on all to many times. I slammed my hand across his face so hard it felt as if my hand could fall off at any given moment. The car swerved off the highway and into a ditch that looked much too similar to the one in my dreams.
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Already Blooming (New Chapter Out Now!)
Mystery / ThrillerHer frail hands were much too small to grasp what she had coming. Mack, (short for Mackenzie) had been adopted for only two short weeks until the odd occurrences had started happening. She was only ten years old, and she was alread...
