When I was 15, my world fell apart. I remember that day vividly—my parents were frantically packing their belongings, their faces void of any emotion. My younger brothers, Lucas and Ben, clung to me, their eyes wide with fear and confusion.
“Tori, what’s happening?” Lucas, only six, asked me.
“I don’t know, but we’ll be okay,” I tried to reassure him, though I was just as scared.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. It was Child Protective Services. A kind-looking woman stepped in and said, “I’m here to help. We need to take you somewhere safe.”
“Please, don’t take us away,” I begged. “We can stay here; we’ll be good.”
“I’m sorry, Tori. It’s not up to me,” she replied softly.
Tears streamed down my face as they separated us. We were placed in different foster homes. The drive to my new home was a blur; I couldn’t stop thinking about my brothers.
The Thompsons, my foster family, were cold and distant. They made it clear I was a burden. Loneliness consumed me, and I missed my brothers terribly. I tried to run away multiple times, but each attempt ended with me being brought back and scolded.
One rainy night, I decided to leave for good. I found shelter in an abandoned trailer, working odd jobs to survive. Life was hard, but I was free from the cold indifference of the Thompsons.
I visited Lucas whenever I could, but Ben had been moved out of state, and I couldn’t find him. The pain of our separation was unbearable.
Years passed, and I saved enough to enroll in community college. Balancing work and studies was tough, but I was determined. Eventually, I graduated with a degree in business administration and got a job at a clothing store. Through hard work, I rose to the position of store manager.
One day, there was a knock on my door. To my shock, it was my parents, Charles and Linda, smiling as if nothing had happened.
“Hello, darling!” my mother said cheerfully.
I stood there, speechless.
“Can we come in?” my father asked.
I let them in, still in a daze. They sat in my kitchen, and my mother said, “We were hoping you could let us stay here for a while, just until we get back on our feet.”
“You want to live with me?” I asked, incredulous.
“Yes,” they both replied.
“How did you even find me?” I demanded.
“Oh, sweetie, how does that matter? We’re family, and family is supposed to help each other, right?” my mother said.
I couldn’t contain my anger any longer. “You haven’t asked a single thing about my brothers since you arrived. You abandoned us, and now you expect me to help you?”
They looked taken aback, but I didn’t give them a chance to respond. I went upstairs, retrieved an old ten-dollar bill my father had given me years ago, and handed it to them.
“I hope this helps you as much as it helped me back then. Now, get out of my house and never come back.”
Their smiles faded as they realized I was serious. Without another word, they left.
As the door closed behind them, I felt a strange sense of closure. I was finally free from my past and ready to embrace whatever the future held.
