It crushes you under the weight of its expectations.
In this moment, I vow to never fall in love. If love means being disposable, I want no part of it.
No one will ever twist me into what suits them, not any foster parents, not even if I was adopted by my dream parents. I swear to myself, I won’t love them.
In the social worker’s car, two bags of my belongings in the trunk, I stare out the window, feeling pieces of myself go gray and deaden. Like a gangrene of the soul.
"You’ll only spend a couple days at the group home," she explains. "Because we are actually already lining up a new place for you. A couple that I think you’ll really like."
I’m left to stew in the burning memory of Mark and Dana in that living room, cutting me out of their life like an unwanted cancer.
Not even two days later, I’m taken to a large suburban house surrounded by a white fence with oversized blooming rose bushes.
Jean and David could easily pass for the parents I would have chosen from a catalog, with their blond hair, well-tailored attire, and perfectly straight smiles, courtesy of braces they likely had in their youth. Too perfect. Too polished. Like someone staged a fantasy and forgot to check if it felt real.
I take everything in without speaking. The social service agent guides me to the oversized white couch where the three of them talk. I tune out, taking in the details of the house. Framed college degrees, art that looks like someone accidentally kicked a can of paint onto a canvas and went with it, and the strong smell of gardenia and soap.
"Evie," the social worker says, drawing my attention. "I actually know David. He grew up in the same system as you."
She’s trying to prompt connection.
David and Jean smile at me. "It’s true," he says. "I know exactly what you’ve gone through. I went through it myself, which is exactly why we decided to bring you here."
Jean puts a hand over his chest, lovingly. "He’s gone on and on about how he wants to repay the kindness he received while he was in the system."
They beam at each other and kiss.
The worker tries to give me a look as if to say, "See? Isn’t this going to be wonderful?"
But I don’t buy it.
Something feels off about this, I just can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s cynicism from too many bad situations, maybe it’s my instincts, but I don’t allow myself to truly relax.
I settle in easy enough. My room is full of sunshine, books, and stuffed animals that I’ll never let Snarp see me touch.
The routine of homemade dinners, getting to do whatever I want—which mostly means hiding out in my room—and adjusting to a new school flies by until the next Monday.
The kids at this school treat me like I’m invisible. I’m surprised to find I miss the fear I inspired in the other kids at my old school. Being invisible is my usual protection, but knowing I could inspire terror in those who despised me made me feel powerful. I wonder if that’s how Shadow feels all the time.
David picks me up from my new school, taking me back to the house per the new routine. Jean doesn’t get off work for a couple of hours, leaving us alone. I don’t like how quiet the house is. Silence can hide a thousand sins.
David follows me into my bedroom, asking me questions about my day. I give one-word answers, but instead of taking the hint, he closes the door behind him.
Still chatting, he casually mentions I’ll have time to do homework later as he unzips his pants. His tone doesn’t change. Like this is just another part of the routine.
Our eyes meet. I’ve been in the system long enough to know what’s about to happen. The social workers try to give us resources to protect ourselves. I know from some of the other kids that many of them were too young to know better when this happened to them. That’s not the case here.
If I stay, I’ll get to paint my room black since they already agreed to it. I’ll have plenty of food, nice clothes, and money to go to the movies with the friends I’ll surely make. But you don’t get something for nothing.
I find out David didn’t lie. He absolutely wants to repay the kindness he received from the same system. I just happen to be the lucky girl who gets to receive it.
That night, Shadow comes to me.
I’m lying on my side in bed, awake.
"What do you want?" I ask, quiet and flat. I haven’t seen him in two weeks. I should be relieved. But all I feel is raw.
He almost seems to hesitate. "I felt you…" he trails off, before asking, "What happened?"
