Quit trying to pull me down into your pit of despair. I already have my own.

My new foster father's yells resonated through my head, but I didn't fully comprehend the words. I kept my head down, looking at the floor tiles that had suddenly become so interesting.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7…..8

7 shiny brown tiles. One cracked tile.

The bickering stopped, I realized with a start. Rick looked at me expectantly.

"Well?"

I looked up. "Huh? I'm sorry, what?"

"Have you even been listening to me?! For Christ's sake Adria, I told you this was a bad idea."

He turned to my foster mother, Adria who had been watching the entire ordeal quietly. She looked at us and sighed, then approached her husband carefully and took his hands in hers while holding his gaze.

"She just needs time, Rick."

He cast one last glance at me before pulling Adria into his study, where they would surely discuss my behavior, although I'd done nothing wrong. I'd given up trying to eavesdrop on their conversations some time ago, when I realized it did more damage than good to me. I know they're starting to consider calling my social worker and returning me. I hadn't been with them for long. In fact, I'd only recently become a foster kid and was still trying to get accustomed to this new life. Before the incident happened, I knew little to nothing about the foster care system, only what I'd seen in movies and books. Never did I imagine that I'd end up in a foster home myself.

It's strange how one's life can change entirely in the blink of an eye. One moment I was living a rather normal life, and the next, I'm in a different place with different people and nothing makes sense, but I think I'm past the point of drowning in my self-pity. It's been hard, yes, but I knew it had to happen at some point. I couldn't stay in an abusive home forever. I'd always assumed I'd stay in the family though; that some distant relative would take pity on me and take me in, like in the movies.

No luck though.

Unfortunately, I'm not the only one trying to cope with her problems. A few days ago, my social worker, who insisted I call her Dom, short for Dominic, visited to check up on me. She insisted we should go out for lunch and talk, as if it were a casual conversation between two friends rather than a discussion about my future as a foster kid.

That day, I learned that Adria and Rick had recently lost a daughter, who was only a bit younger than I was. They decided to become foster parents shortly after, and I was their first kid. In that moment, I realized that all along they'd been trying to replace their girl, or at least get some sort of closure, which clearly didn't work out.

I must be nothing like her.

The way Dom spoke of the topic told me she suspected the same. Her normally bubbly chatter turned to that same hushed tone that as she used when she informed me that my mother had been sentenced to prison, almost apologetic. She must have noticed by now that I don't like my new home, but I knew there was little she could do. There are many children in need of a home, and I was lucky I even had foster parents and didn't have to live in a foster home where there's 5 to 10 kids that share a single bedroom filled with bunk beds, where they're limited to owning only a few personal belongings, and have no privacy at all.

When we were finished eating, she drove me back to my new temporary home and wished me good luck with that same look in her face everyone at the court and police stations id been to used; a sad, almost guilty look. I could tell she felt sorry for me. Everyone who knew what had happened did. I hated that look so much. It made me feel hopeless, like I was some unlucky, unloved, abused and damaged child to pity. Then I realized that in a way, I was.

Rick and Adria finally exited the study, I don't know how much time had passed. Time had become relative these days. Sometimes a few minutes felt like hours, and other times they passed so fast you'd think they were mere seconds. I looked up t them from my position on the couch. Rick simply closed the door and went upstairs. Adria moved to where I was and sat next to me.

"You know, I've been thinking, perhaps it would be best to homeschool you, at least for a while."

The sudden change of topic vexed me. Were they not just discussing my behavior just a few minutes ago? What did school have to do with this? Why couldn't she just be honest with me?

I looked away without answering. Of course I didn't answer. I've never been much of a talker, much less in these situations.

"I know this has been very hard for you…", she tried again.

This was too awkward I could hardly stand it. I suddenly felt claustrophobic. I needed space. I needed to get away. I could feel the familiar anxious feeling rising at the pit of my stomach.

Not now, please

I didn't want to do this in front of Adria, who would surely freak out. I was beginning to hyperventilate and without thinking, I ran out of the house, the front porch door slamming behind me. Adria was too shocked to react, but I wasn't stupid. I knew she'd call for Rick and they'd be chasing after me in just a few moments though hopefully by that time I would have managed to calm myself down. I ran as fast as I could, as far as my legs would take me, but I'm not an athlete and I had to slow to a stop before I reached the end of the street. I felt the adrenaline fading and bent over, attempting those breathing exercises that the psychologist id been forced to visit had suggested for moments like this. Though y anxiety attacks had been less frequent, I was still far from recovered. I doubted I would ever fully function normally.

Suddenly self-conscious, I looked around me to make sure that no one was watching. Aside from the occasional car passing by, I was alone, this was a rather quiet neighborhood, and I liked that. Palm trees decorated every corner, the houses were nice and it was close to the beach.

The beach

I looked back, mildly surprised that Rick and Adria weren't here by now. It's not like I had gone very far. I could still see the house from where I stood. Oh well. Perhaps they'd decided to let me have my privacy, for once. I decided to head for the beach. I knew it wasn't far, but I still switched between fast-walking and jogging. I didn't want Rick and Adria catching me before I reached my destination, that is if they were even looking.

I was able to smell the ocean before I even saw it; the soft breeze wafting over the scent of sand , blowing my hair into a disheveled mess. I might just be able to get accustomed to this.

I removed my shoes when I felt the gravel turn into sand, allowing my feet to sink into the soft microscopic grains. I hadn't been to a beach in so long.

At first glance it appeared empty, until I noticed a few children playing around in the sand, and some teenagers not far from them. Part of me was disappointed that I wasn't entirely alone. I'd wanted the whole beach to myself. I could always walk to the other side, the beach was quite spacious, but I risked being seen. I couldn't explain why but I wanted to keep my presence unknown. Slowly, I inched closer careful to shield myself from their view, using the sand dunes to my advantage, and I observed the kids. Two of them wore these strange identical costumes covering them completely. Who on earth lets their children dress like that with the hot Floridian weather? I mean, sure, it was almost Fall, but still…

Now intrigued by the strange children, I looked carefully to the rest of them with scrutiny, almost as if searching for anything out of the ordinary, I couldn't find much/ on the far distance, there was a lady sitting on a particularly large rock. Their caretaker, perhaps? Most of the children didn't resemble each other, so I doubted they were siblings. Cousins perhaps? Or maybe they were just daycare kids. But there was older ones too. I stopped fusing over it. It wasn't any of my business.

My shyness finally fading a bit, I made my way closer to the water, longing to feel the oceans waves on my feet. I kept my gaze down, making sure that my feet didn't step on a sharp seashell until I reached the edge of the water, and gently, I stuck my foot into it, feeling the warmth radiating through me.

At this point, I didn't care if I got my jeans wet since the bottoms were already draped in sand anyway. I kneeled down to allow the soft waves to hit my legs, and sat like that for a few moments, staring out into the colorful display the sunset provided; bright red fading into soft orange and yellow, painting the sky into a beautiful masterpiece…