This is my first fan fiction, and it is inspired by the song Temporary Home by Carrie Underwood.

Enjoy!

Annabeth:

I was in the taxi, drifting farther and farther away from the life I had known for the past few months but that life obviously did not last. I was on my way to the third foster care this year. My mom died when I was baby. I'm not sure how old I was. I was never able to meet her. My dad told me about her at times: she had died in a car accident; she was intelligent; she had blond hair and gray eyes, like me, but I will never know if that is true because the only person I had to validate that claim was my dad and I'm not so sure I trust anything he says anymore. I hoped that I was like my mom, though. People said she was an amazing person and someday I want to be that amazing person.

My dad got married again when I was five years old. He and his wife had twin boys, Bobby and Matthew. My stepmother and I did not get along, which just caused my dad and I not to get along. The boys were obviously much more liked by my parents than I was. My parents ignored me and I'm sure I was forgotten 75% of the time. The only time they remember me is when the dishes start piling up. One time, before I started doing chores, I stayed at my friend's house for three days and they didn't even notice I was gone.

I had done basically everything around the house when I lived with my father and stepmother, too. I felt like I were the parents! I'd cook, I'd clean, I'd take care of the kids, and etc. I couldn't do it anymore; I had lost the time and the patience for it.

School was a part of my life and I felt like my family was drowning out my dreams with some of their requests. When I'm older I want to be an architect. The subject always fascinated me growing up because it says a part of our history and it is a display of humanity that lasts (seemingly) forever. I could build something permanent, something that could last thousands of years and would tell a story to everyone ahead of us.

About a year ago, when I was in to my room and I had heard my father and my stepmother talking. I didn't suspect anything until I heard my name. I know it isn't right to eavesdrop but there are plenty of things that they have done to me that I could label "not right". Taking a few steps back so I could hear more clearly, I realized that they were talking about me but not exactly in the way I imagined.

"We don't need her. She is just a waste of space and money. If she doesn't leave,

I will," said my choleric stepmother in her usual bitter tone.

I had a feeling the she was me. Many people would probably except that I would probably be crying and start running toward my room by now, but to be honest, the words didn't affect me that much. They were just meaningless words from a meaningless person.

I didn't want to stay with people who that I was a waste of space. It would be much easier to do school work if I didn't have to worry about doing chores all the time. And one person can only take so much. Someday I want to have a true family, too; someday I want to have someone who genuinely cares about me, too

"How are we going to tell her that we had already put her up for adoption?" asked my father. I wasn't surprised that my dad agreed with my stepmother.

I was shocked. They put me up for adoption without even telling me! I did not think through what I did next. I belligerently stepped into the doorway, making sure they could see me.

"Don't worry! You don't have to figure how to tell me, anymore!" I screamed.

My dad was going to say something else but I had already stormed into my room, trying to get as far away from them as possible. I teared through my closet and angrily pulled out a backpack and quickly started packing my belongings. My dad came up to my door and quietly told me that there will be a taxi is waiting for me outside and quickly walked away.

"Okay, we're here," said the taxi driver, pulling me back to reality.

I paid him and walked out. I have arrived, but I'm not exactly sure if I wanted to. I looked up; it looked like a hotel not a house! It was huge! I'm sure there were about twenty-five minors here, which is a lot more than my other foster cares. I stepped in it wasn't fancy or luxurious, just massive.

A man quickly came up to me and said," I'm Chiron, the guardian."

He reached for my bags. "I can take them," I said.

"I insist," he replied.

I thanked him and handed him the bags. The bags were pondering and there were a ridiculous amount stairs that discouraged me to lug the bags up to my room. Don't blame me for being lazy! Chiron insisted…

Chiron seemed very friendly and understanding. All my foster parents were always very nice to me, but I continually tried not to get too close with them. The worst part about being in foster homes is that as soon as you start liking the people there and once you start feeling like you have a family, you have to leave again and basically start over.

I went to my first foster home seven months ago. I was really shy and was really alone. After about a month there I began to like a boy named, Luke. Everyone there was so welcoming.

I felt like I had a family for the first time in my life. Luke and I liked each other, but we were never able to admit it. Now, that I look back on it, I don't regret not telling him because I had to leave, and it probably would have just made the leave more devastating than it already was. After about three months at the second foster, I had to leave to another place. Since that day, I promised myself that I was never going to fall in love, make close friends, or feel like I'm part of a family while I was at a foster home.

This is my temporary home.

Thank you for reading! Any feedback is encouraged and appreciated!

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-h0a4l2e1y