Hope{less} | {foster home plot}

A parent is supposed to love a child unconditionally. Through thick and thin. Through troubles. Through pain. They're supposed to hold the child as the child weathers a storm. Not throw them to the curve and stomp on them while they're struggling. Not abandon them because of believes. Or because of how life's going. Mother and father once cared for me. They supported my decisions as I was growing up. They laughed with me. They cried with me. They held me when my life seemed upside down, yet when I needed them the most, they pushed me away. Father wouldn't even talk to me. He wouldn't let me explain. He just kicked me out. Kicked me to the curve. It hurts. Every single day I'm without him brings sorrow. They swore they'd love me no matter what. They promised me they'd care for me, and for the longest time they did. I guess it all changed.

Three days I was out wandering around through the district. Sleeping in places I shouldn't sleep. Hiding behind buildings. Running from the peacekeepers because I didn't want them to catch me. To throw me in some stupid home. All I wanted was to be alone. Away from everyone and drink away the pain. Many times I'd sneak into a bar long enough to grab a few drinks, and sneak away before anyone even knew I was there. It brought happiness as a storm weathered above. It made me feel wanted and loved despite sleeping beside a rock praying some low life district citizen wouldn't find me. The first night it was hard, and never once did I close my eyes. I couldn't because it was raining. Ironic in a way because it mixed with my tears. It was quiet, though. Nobody wanted to be caught in the middle of a downpour. At least that's what I assumed.

After that sleeping outside was easy. All I did was throw a blanket over myself and hope for the best. During those three days, I never went to school. I never bothered talking to anyone. Or checking in. Inside I had hope that my parents would come looking for me. That they'd come and apologize, but it never happened. Sometimes I prayed it was all a dream, yet every time I opened my eyes the nightmare grew around me. All I could do was wander through the district begging for a piece of food. Weight fell from my fragile body as my stomach began eating my backbone. The constant rumble went away after a while. Either that, or my ears grew used to it allowing my mind to block it out. Maybe it was for the best because in a way I forgot about it until someone walked by holding something to eat.

Waking up the third morning was rough. My body ached. It hurt, and I had no hope left. I didn't care about life. I wanted to die right there in the middle of the district. I wanted to rot away because then my suffering would end. Dying would break the chains holding me to the earth because it's a living hell. Torture. Every single passing second when my heart contracts, or my lungs expand it brings back the memories, and drinking didn't take them away anymore. Tears streamed down my face as I drunk away the pain. Happiness was gone. It didn't exist anymore. Hope was lost. I was alone. Afraid. Scared, but not a single person in the world cared.

Forcing myself into a standing position, I rolled the blanket up before throwing it into the tiny bag of items. One set of clothing. Destroyed by the rain, and it's starting to stink. Hard telling how long it's been since the clothing has been washed, but right now it doesn't matter. Maybe someone will smell it and find me. Maybe someone will help me. Maybe someone will actually care for me. It's a tough thought. Mother and father said they loved me. They said they cared for me. They lied. Of all the times the word love fell from their lips, they were looking for a way to get rid of me. Looking for a way to shove me out of their lives so they could finally be happy again.

Sighing, I move around carefully. My stomach howls loudly, and I'm hungry. So hungry. So thirsty. So tired. It takes all I have to stand upright. Especially as the sun bares down on my skin boiling through my body deep to my bones. Sweat pours from my brow, and no matter what I do, I can't make it go away. Every time my hand removes it, it comes back seconds later. A dry patch sits in the middle of my tongue, and it's sticky. Maybe I'll die right now. Away from everyone. Alone. Trapped in a place where nobody cares. A living hell. That's all it is anymore. A place where the higher ups torture anyone who stands a chance at a normal life. Yet I move. Placing my hands against the walls of buildings as I walk by. I will not die like this. Not today. Not ever.

I turn into a bar. My eyes scan the area making sure my parents aren't inside. Seeing them would only cause trouble, and I don't want trouble. I want a drink. A beer. Something to continue keeping my body poisoned. Happiness is only a drink away. Just one more beverage. Swiping a beer from the counter, and laying the last bit of money I have on the table, I stagger out of the door afraid to look back at his face. In his eyes, I'm another helpless kid. One that everyone should give up on, but it runs much deeper than that. Leaning against the outside of the building, I chug everything inside the mug. It's all been inside. Trapped within my veins as my fluid output has been very little. Hopefully it'll kill me. End my life so I don't bother anyone else. It's best that way.

Tossing the mug towards the side, I continue walking through the district. Maybe I can find the fence that surrounds it. Maybe I can escape to the other side. Get arrested. Die. Yet when I turn around a corner, a large two story building, not like the buildings people work at, but a building made differently. My eyes turn towards the sky as the sun slowly begins climbing behind the trees for the night. Maybe whoever is inside will accept me for the night. A couch. Just a place to sleep. A place to rest my head before moving on. It looks amazing, yet the distance between it and myself grows larger with every step I take. It's give up and die, or move forward. Something about this place fills my veins with excitement, and I'm running to the best of my ability.

My lungs scream for air as I gasp with every breath I take. Every step. Every movement. The muscles inside my body beg me to stop. To just lay down on the ground and die because nothing remains. Wheezing, I continue forward. The ground moves beneath my feet like waves in the water. It grows farther and farther away until it appears right before my eyes. Leaning forward I rest my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath, but I'm swaying in the wind like a thin pole in the middle of a horrible windstorm. Everything spins around me, and the world slowly turns from vibrant colors to gray. And I'm falling forward, and before I can do anything about it, I've collided into the door. It's loud, then nothing.