A/N: Sorry it's been so long, college is a life suck, but the end of the semester is coming up, so I have a little bit more time on my hands now, plus, even when it wasn't a life suck, I couldn't think up a good plot. But, I think I have one, I'm hoping to update this one every day, but until my break before summer school, I'd be happy with once a week. LOL. Please review and all that jazz. :)

I sat in the attic, laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for it.

"REBECCA! GET DOWN HERE NOW!"

There it was.

The voice echoed up the stairs.

I rolled myself out of bed, literally. I slowly walked downstairs. As I reached the bottom, I ducked, narrowly avoiding a glass plate being thrown at me. (dishes, or anything, being thrown at me for that matter was nothing new.)

"Yes ma'am?" I asked.

"Get the breakfast cleaned up. Clean up that plate, and then do the rest of your chores." She demanded.

"Yes ma'am." I said, beginning to clean the kitchen.

"Oh, and one more thing?" She asked, too sweetly for comfort.

"Yes ma'am?" I said facing her, fully aware of what was coming.

SMACK. Her hand went across my face, leaving a red hand print. I held back the tears, and continued to do my chores.

Her twin girls just giggled in the background. Victoria and Jessica. Sixteen years old, blonde hair, blue eyes, and exactly like their mother. I was like mine, who I missed more and more each day, and like my father, who I also missed more and more each day, but was not quite as close to him as I was my mother, so it was a different kind of "missing him" if that makes sense.

Their mother, Victoria and Jessica all left the house, leaving me, alone. The way I liked it. It didn't matter how fast I worked, as long as the work was complete. Unlike when they were home, if I wasn't fast enough, I got hit, harder than that previous time a few moments ago. The only problem, they left me alone, to walk to school, five miles. So I was always late, and could never explain to my teachers why I was late. Oh well, I had five miles to come up with an excuse.

I walked into school, dirty and grimy, and had a thin layer of soot on me, it was Monday, so I had to clean the fireplace, which they burned; just to give me something to clean. I waited until my teacher was facing the blackboard to walk into class, hoping I could slip in before she turned around. Sadly, Victoria was in the class with me.

The moment I sat down.

"Miss Thompson, Rebecca is here." She said sarcastically.

Miss Thompson turned around. "Thanks Victoria, but next time I need a tattle-tale, I'll go downtown to the Elementary School and find my niece, okay?"

The class laughed, and I couldn't help but smile. "I do," Miss Thompson said, "Want to talk to you after class though, okay Rebecca?"

I nodded, and put my head down on the wooden desk. Maybe I could get some sleep, before the evening chores, which were anything but easy.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Mom?" I asked still half-asleep.

"No." Miss Thompson said.

"Oh, sorry." I said now fully aware of my surroundings.

"You live with Victoria and Jessica don't you?"

"Sadly, yes."

"You related?"

"No. Their my step-sisters."

"Hm."

"Did you need something?" I asked coldly.

"I just wanna know, how things are at home."

"Fine."

"Honey, I can't help, unless you let me help."

"I don't need help."

"Here." She said. Handing me some wet-wipes, "Wipe yourself."

I looked at her weird. "I have a four year old foster child I'm taking care of, I buy wet-wipes like they're my religion."

"Oh, you're a foster parent?"

"Sorta, yeah. I'm just doing it as a one time deal, the state was desperate, and when they get desperate, the first people they look to, is teachers."

"Oh."

"So, tell me what a normal day at home is like."

"Why?"

"I'm curious."

I shrugged. "Average, I guess."

"So, why so dirty?"

"I just didn't have time to shower."

"Honey, this is an everyday occurrence."

I wiped the wrong side of my face with the wet wipe.

"Whoa. Whoa. Whoa." Miss Thompson said.

"What?"

"Who hit you?"

"Nobody."

"So, you hit yourself?"

"No, that was the side of my face I was sleeping on."

"No, that mark is bruising, you would need heavy contact to do that, I'm surprised the wind wasn't knocked out of you when...whoever, hit you. Also, that pile of drool on my desk would be on the opposite side, if you were laying on that side of your face."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I used to be a medical examiner."

"So, why a teacher?"

"I like living people more than dead people."

"Oh. Can I go?"

"Not yet."

"What?" I asked angrily.

"Honey, I get it."

"Get what?"

"What you're going through."