Wish It Would Rain

Chapter 1

My current home I've been in for almost a year. My foster father is named Tom. He's a horrible human being, whose daily routine is waking up, eating, going to his five hour work day, the bar, home to beat on me, sleep, and repeat.

I saw a car in my driveway. A very shitty driveway, that usually only held a beat up car and garbage. And it was right next to a house that looked like it had been abandoned for ten years. But no. I lived there. In the gray, gross, beer bottle filled house. With a small kitchen, living room, bathroom and one bedroom.

You heard me. One bedroom. Where I sleep? The supply closet. Full with a cot, and a singular bin and duffel bag under the 'bed'.

Maggie's car. Maggie, my social worker.

"Maggie?" I ask. Maggie, who has blonde hair and honestly looks like a barbie doll. Maggie who has been the only good mother figure in my life for the past fifteen years. Maggie, who has never looked happier.

"Hey, honey," she says. I place my bag down and look over at Tom, who looked furious.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. Tom takes a step forward and I suppress a flinch.

"I'd like to know that as well." I kept my face cold, even though Maggie could probably see right through it. She always could.

"I'm here because you're getting out of here," Maggie says. I raise an eyebrow.

"What? I'm almost eighteen, why are they moving me?" Somehow Maggie's grin grows.

"Well, you're not being moved to another foster home," she says. I smile slightly.

"You're finally adopting me?!" I question sarcastically. Maggie can't adopt me. She's not financially stable enough for another person. Her new husband, Tyler, has a job but they still are saving up to get a house. They can't add a teenager ontop of that.

Maggie frowns. "No. But somebody else is." My face turns to pure shock.

"What?!" Tom exclaims. I felt the same exact way. Who would adopt a seventeen year old they've never met? Just, who?

"Go get your things," Maggie says, ignoring Tom. I glance between the two then nod. I walk up the stairs to my closet. I grab the bag and the bin, and sit on the cot. I know Maggie. She sent me away to talk to Tom.

I pull my charger out of the wall and shove it in my bag. Maggie sent me a phone for my fifteenth birthday. Not a scratch. That and my necklace are the only things I never let anyone touch. My necklace is the only thing I have from my birth mother. I may not remember her, but I like to imagine her. What she was like, if I looked like her, how my life could have been if one person decided to call a cab instead of drive while intoxicated.

I hear yelling downstairs. Tom. I hear Maggie trying to calm him down and the door slamming open. I flinch and peer around the corner, down the stairs. I hear a new man's voice. It sounded deep. Much deeper than Tom's.

Maggie seemed shocked, and when she looked up and saw me on the stairs she smiled softly and waved me down. I grab the bin and my bag and walk down the stairs. I look up at the new man. He has dark brown hair, with matching eyes. He had a similar skintone to me. He seemed... familiar.

He was staring at me in shock, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Do I know you?" I ask. The man shakes his head and the shock falls. He chuckles and extends his hand to me. I don't reach out to shake it. He takes the hint and retracts his hand.

"You do, actually. But, I'm not surprised that you don't remember me. I'm your older brother, Alec." My eyes widen while I stare at him. I was unable to hide my shock. This man? My brother? I have a brother?