Welcome To My Life
Prologue
All I have ever wanted was a family to love me. Is that ever too much to ask? Ever since I was seven, I lived my life in a suitcase.
My parents died in a car crash, on the way to the hospital to see my dying grandfather. He was the only part of my family I could remember after all of that, but I was put into foster care right after.
Now, let me tell you about the families I've been through, and it might take a while, but please take the time to listen. It's unfortunate, but you'll see why you need to listen.
*Family #1*
This was when I was seven years old as well, and my foster mother, was a prostitute. Of course I never knew this at the time, but when she brought me home, she placed me in bed and smiled at me. "Now, I need to work tonight, and I work at home, so you don't need to worry about me leaving, okay?"
I nodded, and still held the picture of my parents and me, and she looked at the photo.
"Is that your Mommy and Daddy?"
I nodded again, and almost cried.
"Honey I am so sorry about them, but I promise to take good care of you, okay?" She smiled, and kissed my cheek.
I only half smiled, and she tucked me into bed.
About an hour later, I walked out, trying to get a bottle of water out of the fridge, and soon, the man she had in her room came out, and said, "Oh...hi little girl! What's your name?"
"M-Meghan..." I managed to say.
"Oh...well, I didn't know you were here, Meghan."
I didn't say anything else, I just tried to walk back into my room.
But before I fell asleep, I could hear the fight, and I still remember it to this day.
"You have a child?!"
"She isn't mine!"
"No one will want to be here if you have a child! And she isn't even your's?! Did one of your customers knock you up?!"
"Just get out of my house!"
And then I was given back the next morning.
*Family #2*
This was when I was eight. This family was a little edgy, just to say the least. I had to share a room with four obnoxious teenage boys. From the ages of fourteen to eighteen. Let's just say, they all used me as a human punching bag. The eighteen year old, who's name was Austin, would hang me by his shoulder, and throw me on the floor so the youngest, Tyler, could put me in a headlock and noogie me.
Then the second to oldest, Matt, would wrestle me until my arms gave out, and they thought it would be funny to shove their fifteen year old brother, Brandon, off of his top bunk and he landed on me.
That's where I was found with a broken nose and fractured ribs.
So I was taken back about a month after being healed.
*Family 3*
I was almost nine years old with this family, which was really scary. This man who looked in his fourites, took me in, and he had two other children, who I thought were related. It was a nine year old boy, and a ten year old girl, Macey and Kyle.
Kyle sat on his bed corner, with his pillow over his waist. Macey sat on the floor beside him, playing with her long braid.
I remember placing my bag on the floor, and the awkward feeling when the door closed.
"We should tell her." Kyle snapped right away.
"Now?" Macey growled.
"Yes! She needs to know before anything happens!" Kyle protested, jumping off the bed.
Macey didn't roll her eyes, but she looked at me sincerely. "Well...that is true."
He nodded, and said to me, "Your name's Meghan, right?"
I nodded, and said, "Are you adopted too? Or am I the only one?"
He sighed. "No...I was kidnapped."
My eyes widened in horror.
"I was too." Macey said as she stood. "But you weren't? Interesting."
"Look, you can't trust him." Kyle said to me. His green eyes soon became glossy, like he was about to cry.
"Why?" I asked.
Macey took a breath, and said, "He has things for young children....like us."
"I don't know what you mean by that." I said.
"He touches us....where we shouldn't be touched." Kyle said, looking below his waist, and then sitting back down, placing the pillow over his jeans. "It's so hard to escape."
"Then just come with me!" I said.
Macey looked surprised. "You can get us out of here?"
I nodded. Later the next day, I made the call, and all three of us left. Soon after, we were all put in different families. I wasn't adopted again until I was ten years old.
*Family #4*
This was with a drug addict father, and the mother didn't seem to give any cares about how her son treated me.
"It's okay," Johnny said to me. "Just sleep with me. Your room isn't finished yet."
I nodded, but still didn't know what to say. Johnny was fourteen, and sort of cute, but I wouldn't even think about getting in that bed with him. I knew better than that already.
"Meghan..." he said, starting to stroke my face. "I won't hurt you...why do you seem so afraid?"
"I've been through bad families..." I whispered.
"But I won't be bad...I promise." He batted his blue eyes at me, and pulled me onto his lap. "I know you're tired."
I honestly was. I remember how I yawned, and my head rested on his neck.
Then his hand sliding to my jeans.
I let out a scream and hit him in the face. He wiped the blemish, and then tried to pull me back onto him, but my screams brought his mother in, and she saw how his pants were undone, and I was screaming and crying. She let me back in the foster home that night, and I never felt more violated.
 (read Prologue part 2)