Blake.
I sat outside the window seal of my bedroom with Andrew, tears sliding down my cheeks as he passed me the cigarette he had, making me slowly inhale it, exhaling once I felt the burn in my lungs before passing it back to him.
"You don't want to live with them anyway- they were the rich people." Andrew spoke, throwing his arm around my shoulder.
"I loved them" my voice cracked.
"You can't fall in love with families that fast-" "I was almost adopted, we were two weeks away, Andrew" I cried towards him, seeing sympathy on his face.
"I know it hurts." He spoke slowly, leaning on my shoulder.
"But it's not the first time and you know it won't be the last, Blake" he whispered to me.
That made me cry more.
We were never getting out of this damn foster home.
All we did was clean
We cleaned, we helped the other kids with school work, we bathed them, we changed diapers, we cooked and fed them because our foster parents were absolutely assholes
"As soon as we turn eighteen, we can get out of here." He whispered.
Two fucking years.
"Why can't we leave now?" I asked the question for probably the hundredth time.
"By running away?" He exhaled.
"We have almost three hundred dollars to get started, we can get jobs, go to a homeless shelter-" "and what do we do when the cops are searching homeless shelters for us?" He asked me quickly, making me wipe my tears slowly.
"I just fucking hate it here" my voice cracked
He pulled me closer to him, pecking my lips gently.
"We'll leave soon, Blake"
Before getting caught, Andrew three the cigarette out and we crawled back through the window, shutting it and sitting in my bed.
I could hear the foster parents yelling at some of the smaller kids- which would soon be us.
"This is hell" I whispered, hearing the younger kids running to their assigned rooms sobbing.
"I know" Andrew responded, pushing hair out of my face.
"But at least we have each other"
