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really sorry, and I’ll try to do my best for the upcoming months."
I believed her, though I was just six years old at the time My social worker came in. It had been a little over a month since I saw my brother, and there he was standing right in front of me. I hugged him so hard. None of my brothers could adopted me because they had bad criminal records.
"I did not blame them because no one taught them what good or bad was."
About three months in this home, it went from not feeding me into verbally abusing me. I was tired of it. My birthday was around the corner, but I didn’t really care, I knew that I wasn’t going to get anything. I didn’t even get meals. What made me think that I was going to get a cake or at least balloons?
As I walked down the stairs on my birthday, I was surprised with cake, balloons, and presents! I cried, can you imagine a boy crying because I did. Little did I know that it was just an act for my social worker. My foster mom told me that she could care less about me, and she actually told me it was the money she got. And it was a waste of money to actually even buy me cake and balloons. As I remember opening my presents, my foster mom whispered into my ear and told me, “Act like you’ve never seen it and be happy." As I opened my gifts, I saw clothes; clothes that were in my closet already. I cried, she told everyone that I was emotional because I never had a birthday or even a present, which was a lie. Eventhough my
mom was a little crazy, she still got me real presents. I was filled with anger, I screamed so hard. I told everyone that I was living a lie. That party went from 100 to 0 real quick, everyone left expect my social worker, as I went to my room. They had a chat. I didn’t know what happened, but my social worker came into my room and told me to pack my belongings and that she’d be back in the morning.
She left. felt my heart race through the earth. I tried to pretend I was sleeping. About ten minutes passed, and I felt this brutal pain in my back. She hit me so hard on the back, and it was not even a belt. It was a metal bar that she had gotten from the towel holder in the bathroom. She screamed at me, she told me that I was a piece of you know what. I ran through the door, grabbed my stuff and left that house. Who knows what would have happened to me.
I was on the run for about a week. Starving and without options, I went to steal food from the gas station, and boom, they found me.
I did not really get into trouble. I mean, I was scared. I lived in fear for about 4 months, so they did not do much but place me into a different home. This house was smaller, but the foster parents seemed nicer. They only had one biological son. They did not have good
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