Hiya everybody! Thank you for clicking on my story!

I have one request of you all; although i appreciate constructive criticism, please be sensitive to my character's life while in foster care. I'm using true stories from my own life and all of them have actually happened to me- aside from the supernatural bits unfortunately ;)

For obvious reasons i wont be using real life names when writing about my past.

Also, I am not using my real life as a way to gain sympathy, or help. I am now 23 years old with a child of my own and have successfully moved on from that life. |So thank you :)|

Oh and i obviously don't own twilight or its characters.

Enjoy!

Prologue

Hurt.

Anger.

Confusion.

Fear.

Those were the emotions I first felt after school today- in that order. I had just gotten back to the house after the bus dropped me off down the road to find a common yellow post-it note on my bedroom door. If only the words on it were as equally common and uncondemning- but nothing ever seemed to work this way.

Our family has gone out to eat.

You have TV dinners in your fridge, and may use the microwave.

Don't touch anything else and stay downstairs!

Although I was not surprised that she didn't consider me a part of the family, it still hurt. More than I should have allowed it to. Even her two biological daughters would introduce me as 'our foster kid'- like I was some charity case they took in so they could wake up in the morning feeling like better people. Better than me. They weren't though; even with my lack of self-esteem and low confidence I knew they were just rude, entitled and unappreciative people. Too blind to see just how good they had it.

They had each other didn't they? That was already more than I had- and it was all I ever wanted. To be wanted. I didn't even need them to love me.

Then I was angry. Angry that I let it hurt so much- angry that I just couldn't accept that this was my life now. Was I that difficult to live with? Was having me around so much of a burden that I couldn't even be included in a simple outing to a restaurant? Even if it was just for show I would have thanked them for it, I would have appreciated it.

I did everything I could- everything they asked of me and it still wasn't enough; I did my list of chores every Sunday. I moved into the room in the basement so they weren't so crowded upstairs. Ate the microwavable food out of the fridge they supplied me separately from their own. I even saved my CAS supplied allowance to take my laundry to the laundromat so I wouldn't have to use theirs, and it took two weeks to save enough for just a one way trip into town. All those days of going to school with the same dirty jeans on, all the times I had to hand wash my underwear in the sink. I've even had to use preciously scarce funds to buy a cheap jersey from the village corner store once because I didn't want to smell at school. To have everyone find out what my life was like.

To feel sorry for me.

Angry tears burned my eyes. My fingernails cut into my palms as I clenched my fists so tight my arms shook. How could they be so cruel? Why even foster children at all if you hate us so easily? We don't cost anything- the Children's Aid covers all the costs. We hardly even demand much of your time- what with school, homework and wanting to spend time with friends if we manage to make any. Some conversation at breakfast in the morning and dinner at night would be better than nothing- without being condescending would be even better- if you can manage that. Something this family couldn't for me.

I couldn't stop the shaking now. All the anger and frustration was coming to the forefront of my mind, all the things that had happened to me in my short 14 years of life were flashing past the back of my eyes faster than I could fight it. What's happening to me? The shaking had extended to my shoulders and straight down into my toes.

I was so confused. I had never let my feelings take control like this before and I didn't want to start now. But it was like there was something inside of me fighting to get out; like the side of myself I buried away was trying to protect me from the hurt and pain I felt on the surface, and wanted to chase it away. No, it wanted me to run. So I did.

I rushed out of the house so fast I dropped my backpack. I didn't take the time to think about the so very few sentimental things I owned. I couldn't slow down enough to turn the doorknob and instead tore through the fiberglass and polymer like it was a bed sheet, and it all happened so fast I didn't even think about how impossible that should have been at the time.

The fear came next as I rushed through the hay field outside the house. I was passing phone line poles so quickly they blurred into the background. All I could concentrate on was the cluster of trees ahead- my salvation. I needed to hide. This fear was all consuming, and yet it was somehow the anger hidden underneath that fueled each decision than came next- my two sturdy legs lunged me forward into a dive. The shock at seeing the ground rush towards my face was pushed aside when my hands shot out and I let loose a growl from the pit of my vibrating core. Fingers turned to sharpened claws and hands became wide paws as they touched down on the solid earth- I had exploded from the inside out.

The physical pain was slow to register, but it was nothing more than the sting of a paper cut, compared to the hurt I felt in what little was left of my heart. As I practically flew past the farm house I took quick notice of the pick-up truck missing from the driveway. No one was home to witness my breakdown.

Just as I had reached the cover of the trees my anger suddenly subsided- like its purpose was gone and it was leaving me to come to terms with everything on my own.

That was where I was at an hour ago and I've got to be honest-I'm still working on it…

To be continued