The Foster Child

Have you ever just wondered what people's purpose in living is for? Like you wake up and repeat the same thing you did yesterday. It's like a daily routine but, more or less it literally is a do-over. If you are feeling like this, suck it up. It's my reality. I don't want anyone complaining about how they are tired of certain classes, or how they can't stand this teacher, or how annoying and nagging their parents are. You can change your life, you can do more things in a day than I could do in seventeen years. I wish I could complain about how hard classes are, how a teacher is targeting me, or how my parents show affection in the weirdest ways. I don't have anything. I wish I had parents who could tell me to do things, go to school, and learn something new. Yet, here I am, not even living my good life. I want another life to live; something more adventurous, something freer, something more joyful. Anything that can beat living in a foster home and being trapped in the basement.

Let's just say that if you were me, you wouldn't like it. Being in my position, any average kid with common sense would take back what they said about every kid who has it easy or better than they have. Let me put it this way: let's say if you were me you wouldn't last fifteen minutes in this foster home. You would get picked on by everyone, from adults to babies. Especially, by the quiet and awkward kids—they would target you, too. You would normally be fed three meals a day, but you would be lucky enough if you get bread and water in my shoes. Oh, and don't get me started on how "comfortable" the bed is. You don't even have a bed, not even a mattress. The hatred towards you, it wouldn't even allow you to sleep peacefully and safely. You have a worn-out sleeping bag that carries holes where little critters could sneak up on you at night. The basement is where your "bed" is and trust me everything you can despise about the basement, is there. And the rules, oh the rules, there are so many that you literally have to write them down a hundred times to remember the main ones. Those I can tell you are: don't fight back, don't yell, don't disrespect anyone (not even the babies), don't breathe too loudly, no looking away from the person who is talking to you, and all chores must be completed ten minutes after reading them. If any of those main rules are broken, you can forget about eating or sleeping for the next week. The adults will whip you with anything they can find; some would even go as far and grab a knife and cut you up.

You'll be even luckier if they didn't go out drinking the night you broke a rule because then you would definitely lose another piece of hope inside of you. Sounds like a place you would enjoy? I bet not.

"Where is that she-devil?" Danice yelled from upstairs. She was supposed to take on the role of being a foster mom. Yet she takes the role of an evil stepmother. Cinderella has it better than me still.

"She is downstairs, Madam. She looked at the chores and sighed as she went back to bed," a high-pitched voice said. It was probably Timothy; he is eighteen and puberty still didn't hit his voice.

The footsteps got louder and louder until they stopped. I looked at the door, and there stood Danice. Everything about her was evil and creepy.

"I heard you looked at your chores and returned down here to sleep. Is that true?" Her voice was so bitchy and loud. I hated that I had to talk to her as if she respected me.

"Nyet, Madam," I answered. My voice was all dry and raspy. I think this was the most I said since the month started.

She stepped inside the room and slowly made her way over to me. Clack-clack-clack.The sounds of her heels against the wooden floor put even more fear into my heart. She stopped about three feet away from me. She looked me in my eye and asked: "Are you sure?" The tone in her voice would have had me believe I wasn't in trouble, but actions speak louder than words.

"No, Madam. I didn't look at the chores yet, and no Madam I am not lying to you." I spoke with confidence so she knew I was serious and not trying to avoid an ass-whupping.

"Alright, Raven...If I find out you lied to me, prepare for your ass to be whupped."

"Yes, Madam." I backed away from her—with or without heels she towered over me. Mainly it's because I'm only five feet. "I will go start them now," I told her and scurried off upstairs to the kitchen.

"Oh, and Raven-" Danice started.

"Yes, Madam".

"Look adaptable; we are having visitors. And no trying to hide, I want you gone and out of my responsibility," she snarled at me

"Yes, Madam." I gave her a fake tight smile and looked at my chores.

Raven Chores

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Sweep the halls

Wash the dishes

Do the laundry (including mine)

Do your sister's hair. I want them all fancied up

I want everyone's clothes ironed.

Fix my closet

Cook for all the kids younger than you.

All plates organized from biggest at the bottom to smallest at the top

Make sure that your room of yours is clean and spotless. No holes in the floor

~Danice

P.S. If it is not done, wait till they leave. You have 5 hours for everything to be completed.

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Un-fucking-believable. I looked at the clock on the oven: 12:37 pm and five hours from now would be 5:37 pm, so about 6 o'clock everything should be completed. I glanced at everyone else's chores. All they have to do is give me their dirty laundry. I hate living here; when will someone come and rescue me?

"Raven...Raven...Raven" I looked around, but I don't know where the voice is coming from.

"Raven...over here," Ethan called. He waved for me to come to him so nobody would suspect anything. He's the only one I can say was helpful. He was kinder and brighter when he was by himself, but when he was with the rest of the family, he acted all tooth-faced and annoying. Anytime he was with the rest of the family he would bully me, yet there would be this apologetic look in his eyes before and after he did what he did. Sometimes he would sneak downstairs into the basement with me and he would bring me some food or just keep me company before Danice woke everyone up.

"Yes, Sir?" I had to be mindful that even though we are the same age, I still must respect him until he tells me otherwise.

He looked around before speaking. "Everyone else is going out to the park, and I know you're stuck with the impossible chores so I will help you out. What is your time limit?" Ethan asked.

"Um...five hours, Ethan," I whispered, as everyone else was jumping out the house with scooters, bikes, and balls.

He sighed hard and took the list out of my hand. "Um..some of these things will have to wait until they come back home, but we can start the laundry, I can patch up the basement for you, and I can iron. You know I would help with cooking, but we already know how that would work." I nodded and smiled at him.

By the time we started the chores, it was one o'clock. A few minutes lost—that is not so bad, given I have someone to help me. Thank you, Ethan, I owe you one. I jogged to the kitchen and started to prepare for dinner. I looked in the fridge. Interesting. They didn't go shopping for food; we don't even have chicken that is deforested. They might as well eat some air or drink water and lay on your stomach. Yet, I was trying to get out of there in one piece, so I figured, let me start the food and take a quick nap.

As I started getting ready to take my nap I felt a weird unusual aroma around me. It felt as if the world was closing in on me. I thought about two things: getting caught by Danice trying to sleep or embracing the darkness closing in. I know what you're thinking: stay away from the dark, but no, I wanted to embrace the calm unusual presence.

An hour passed by after I recovered from the darkness. "Ethan, what time is it?" I asked. My voice was far from the high-pitched I usually have; it was low and masculine. I ran straight for a mirror and looked at myself. I was no longer the weak little girl who nearly died in a foster home—I was a young man who was in a mansion. Gold on my wrist, tailored clothes, and smooth skin. I was Ethan, and what I thought had happened to me was not my reality. My life in my old body called Raven was a burden on me. I am not that anymore. I am different. I'm clean and healthy. As if I spoke her name three times, a bird appeared. No, a Raven appeared.

"I'm letting you go, I'm no longer with you. Be free and embrace what you went through. I have a new life. I am like Icarus. I flew too close to the sun, and my past burned away. Thank you," I said to the bird. I set her free and now, I'm free. I never want to witness the stress and the pressure I did in my past life. I never want to do it over. I'm free. It was a new life I had been given, my reward for suffering so long. My reincarnation, my world, my freedom.