Ryla's P.O.V
"Ryla get down here!" My foster mother yelled.
I gulped and slowly started towards the stairs, "NOW!" she screamed, making me pick up my pace. As I stood in front of my fuming mad foster mom, I started shivering. That only happened since I started living here a week ago.
See I'm an orphan, and I go between foster homes and adoption agency's. My Father died at war, he was an army guy, you could say I was daddy's little girl. And my mother, I never met her, well I suppose I did once but she's been gone since I was like a week old. My Father died at war when I was 5½ while I was staying with my grandmother, sadly she passed away from cancer a couple months later. All I had in my family was my father and grandmother. My grandfather died of a heart attack when I was two and my Mother's family all left with her to who knows where, while my father was an only child.
So here I am at this foster home. This is like the 7th these past 3 months. I know what you're thinking I must be horrible, well I'm really not, I don't talk much, well at all, unless it's too myself. But everyone else just thinks I'm dumb, no one understands me like my father did.
"You worthless brat, apologize for breaking my plate!" she said holding a plate shattered in two pieces. I looked over and saw Cameron, her 15 year old son, snickering around the corner. I kept calm hoping for the best.
I felt a pain in my left cheek, well there's today's hit, tomorrow will probably be a kicking day and the next a punching day.
She pointed to the stairs, "Get your good for nothing, lazy ass up those stairs!" she said pushing me onto the stairs I climbed up and hid in the closet in the teeny tiny room she gave me.
About half an hour later I heard Carol my social worker. "I'm just going to make sure she's okay for myself." Carol spoke as I heard her walking up the stairs.
"Oh, no, it's fine. She's probably just sleeping," June my foster mom said. I heard the door open.
"She's not even in here!" I creaked the closet door open when Carol said that. "Oh sweetie, you are here." She pulled me out of the closet and up on my feet where the sun shone on my nicely bruised cheek.
"Oh my goodness, Dear, what happened to your face?" I looked down in embarrassment. "You are coming with me, clearly foster homes aren't your thing." I nodded as she led me down the stairs and out the door. She pulled opened the door in the backseat of her car. I got in and buckled my seat belt up.
We arrived at the adoption agency, about two hours later. I enjoyed the ride as I watched Carol rock out to something on the radio, full out singing and dancing... You know while driving. Carol put my bag in a room with one bed.
"Here, Sweetie, don't worry someone will adopt you soon." She smiled ruffling my hair.
She walked out and I pulled out my blade, I slid it across my arm once. No one wants to about a 12 year old like me, I'm too fat and ugly and stupid for anyone's liking. I washed the blood away from my arm once it hardened. I walked back to my room and got under the covers.