I was not loved, tossed here and there by my foster parents, it was all temporal, nothing was true. They said they loved me, but they returned me back to the social services where it was better off being lied about being loved. I rather be alone than to suffer the pain of realising counterfeit love.
“Candace.” the social worker woke me up from my sleep, I rubbed my eyes, “You have a new parent!” he had a little forced smile clung to his face, convincing me that everything would be alright. It would be not. He brought me out of bed to meet my new parent, she was plump, a nurse, but not a serene woman, she posed innocent threats to me, I felt it in my bones.
I shrugged behind the social worker, the woman walked near to me, “Hi! I’m Newmaker. I would be bringing you home, giving you the love of a normal family would have.” the words recited into my mind as if it was copied straight our of a textbook, they all told the same thing to me, I had the savvy that I would end up in this place eventually. They had this compelling feeling, captivating you to become one of their gifts which they did not have- the gift from God- because of their infertility or unwillingness to marry.
She prompted me to come nearer to her, “Come on, Candace! She had signed everything, and she is deemed worthy to take care of you.” the social worker cited, with an assertive smile, he just did not want me to feel sad, somewhere inside me snapped a little, I averted my death stare into Newmaker’s very soul, but I saw something, malicious. She clapped her hands together, wanting me dive into her embrace, “You have to follow her now, Candace. She has the custodian rights to take care of you, so pack your things and have a good time with Ms. Newmaker.” his nonchalant look turned away, leaving me and her, standing singularly in the hall.
She led me to the car, opened the door for me to sit at the back, reluctance would be futile. the fact strike my brain, I cooperated accordingly, being the modest self, silent mode at the back seat. “Candace, are you fine?” silence. “Candace, how was your previous parents?” boiling point. “Candace…”
“STOP ACTING LIKE YOU FUCKING CARE! I KNOW YOU DON’T GIVE A DAMN TO THIS LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT LIKE ME! JUST FUCKING TELL ME WHY DO YOU EVEN ADOPT ME?” I erupted in wrath, leaving her to shut up.
The rest of the journey was pin-drop silence, I had enough of this kind of shit, I yearned no more foster parents, I did not want to be adopted once more. She stopped the car in front of a partisan house, everything looked normal. “I just wanted a normal life.”
“liar.” I uttered, the fire inside me was smouldering in anger. She left the car, opened the back door for me, stretched out a hand to me, “Save that for yourself,” Bitch. I hopped out of the car, I had nowhere to run, just into her house.
She did not dare to touch me yet, I gave her the Lucifer’s stare, glaring deep right into her soul if she came near me, or attempting to touch me. I picked a spot at the house, a nook which was dark, and a corner to cocoon myself into nothingness. I had to have my ground, so that I could be sent back to the social workers in no time.
Time passed, I was chary to even nudge from my position. She handed me a plate of bountiful food at night, I was hungry as ever, but my head fear conscience kicked in, I swiped away the plate of food, “fuck off, bitch.” She left me to my own space, walking upstairs to her room. I need energy. I dropped on all fours, scavenging for the remnants of spilled food on the floor, fucking bland. Falling into a deep reverie of having real parents brought me through the night.