Here's another Stephanie-started-an-idea-but-never-finished-it piece that will probably never turn into a full-length story :(

Foster care.

By definition, foster care is a system in which a minor has been placed into a ward, group home, or private home of a state-certified caregiver, referred to as a "foster parent". The placement of the child is normally arranged through the government or a social service agency.

Foster child.

A foster child is a child that is a ward of the state following the loss or in such case abandonment of the birth parents originally having had custody.

Drug Dealer

One who sells illegal drugs.

What does that make her, if she is only the one who sells the drugs, getting nothing in return but a bed and clothes?

Callie's mom died when she was ten. That was a loss. It was the loss that defined the next six years of her life. She went to go live with some man that had been her birth father, apparently. He had been nice. Robert had been good to her. There was no denying that he loved her like he loved Sophia. She had met her sister. Her sister was the reason she kept going after her mother died. Sophie had needed her.

Sophie had needed her again when they had gotten a call that Jill and Robert had gotten killed in a car crash. Callie was twelve; Sophie was eleven. They went into the foster system, as Robert's father has disowned him after his choice to take in Colleen's daughter- his estranged daughter.

"Hey bitch, you gonna hit me up with some of the good stuff or what?"

Callie looked up. In front of her stood a scary, angry black woman that looked like she was about to die in withdrawal if she didn't get some of the 'good stuff' soon. Callie pulled out a bag of it from her pocket and exchanged it for a wad of cash.

That wad of cash wouldn't help her stay alive, or well-fed. No, it would be going to the boss. The boss would decide if she was worthy of a meal. If you asked her, she was not worth it. Actually, she wasn't worth anything.

Worthless.

The absence of value.

Who would want a messed-up, damaged foster child who had been through enough homes to last her twelve lifetimes? Sophie was lucky, thank goodness. Her sweet, innocent face had saved her, getting her with foster parents that wanted her. Had they wanted Callie? Of course not. She had tried to keep in contact, but her sister was living her life, so Callie periodically checked in. It was a little concerning, though, that she hadn't heard from her in six months.

She had run away from the last one- the worst of them all- to be the face of a drug dealer. Was it better than beatings and rapings? For now, yes. It wasn't like she was going to do much better. Where could she run to? Where could she go? Who could she be?

As long as her little sister was safe and happy, that was all that mattered.

They were almost there. Just two years until Callie turned eighteen. When that happened, she and her sister could start planning. The two of them could have a life together. Sophie would get to go to college when Callie could get all the money together, and she would get the life she deserved.

Her sister deserved the world and nothing less.

"Hey, you!"

She looked up to see a blonde-haired cop walking towards her in the alleyway. Usually, she would try to run or do something that indicated that she cared, but today she just did not have it in her.

"What are you doing here this late at night? Where are your parents?"

She couldn't help the snort that escaped her lips. They wer d.

Dead.

1. the action or fact of dying or being killed; the end of the life of a person or organism, for example, "an increase in deaths from skin cancer." Synonyms include demise, dying, end, passing, passing away, passing on, loss of life, expiry, expiration, departure from life, final exit, and eternal rest.
2. the state of being dead.
"even in death, she was beautiful"
3. the permanent ending of vital processes in a cell or tissue.

"Is there someone I can call for you?"

Wait a minute, was that... care... in her eyes? She almost looked and sounded concerned. Callie was so lost in her thoughts that she missed the cop looking at her with her head tilted in question. She cleared her throat and Callie almost jumped.

"Sorry. I, uh... I live at the end of the block. I was just getting some air." She turned to walk away and grew a little concerned when the cop started following her.

The blonde cop was persistent, but she didn't seem angry or as though she was going to get the girl in trouble. "What did you say your name was?"

"I never said my name, and I'd prefer to not say it." She stepped under the street lamp and turned around to face the cop. "I'm going to go inside now." And she was a little concerned at exactly how she was going to do that without her 'boss' making a racket about how SHE had called the cops. She really had great luck with these things.

The cop apparently had just then gotten a good look at the girl because her eyes widened.

"Oh my god... you look just like Sophia."

Callie's heart started beating in double time. "How do you know Sophia?" Oh god, what if she had seen her when she was in a body bag? What if she had been the one who found her and had to put her in a body bag? What if her sister was dead?

"She's my daughter. And you're Callie. You're the sister. We've been looking for you."

Those were, oddly enough, the words she had been waiting to hear for her whole life.

Flashbulb Memory.

A highly detailed, exceptionally vivid 'snapshot' of the moment and circumstances in which a piece of surprising and consequential (or emotionally arousing) news was heard.