Chapter two When shit started getting worse

There were times I wish something bad would happen to my sister. Lots. For most of those times it was for silly reasons, like because she ate all my captain crunch I had just gotten from the store. So imagine how weird it was for me to be thinking things like 'I'll never fight with her again' or 'I promise to stop annoying her and do her chores' just so she'd be all right. That her injuries weren't as fatal as they looked. I then looked at my blood stained hands. They were trembling. Her blood just kept flowing and flowing-

"Kiba?"

I jolted from my seat.

"Y-yes?" I looked at the nurse full of pleading hope.

"The police would like to talk to you."

Funny how fast expressions can change. Cause I was pissed off in an instant.

"I want to know about my sister."

"Doctors are doing everything they can-"

"And my mother? I mean, yeah she miraculously only got shot on the leg but she was freaking out pretty bad. …it wasn't a heart attack was it?"

The nurse looked at me with pity but at the same time with sternness. It wasn't like this was her first time doing this.

"Please come this way."

She then walked off. Though I was supposed to follow her, I stood up and glared at the chair I was sitting on. Angrily I kicked it, shoved my hands in my pocket and followed. God I hated my life.

"For the last flipping time, I DIDN'T SEE A GOD DAMN THING."

"If there's anything your leaving out-"
"Why the hell would I!? My house just got shot to smithereens and my sister is dying!"

I was pulling at my hair. I wanted to snap, I want to break something, no, I wanted to smash this guys face in. The officer sighed.

"Alrighty then."

I was waiting to hear a 'and that will be all' but I didn't. In fact he didn't even get up from his seat. Instead he pulled out a tan folder.

"According to your family records your father has gone missing and have no other living family members?"

I slowly nodded. There was something about this I didn't like. Not one bit.

"Since your mother is being hospitalized while she's unconscious, you no longer have anyone taking care of you."

I frowned.

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

Even more so since I was also taking care of my mother.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. Sides you don't seriously want to go back do yeah? They could come back."

The fact that they could come back wasn't what was frightening me in his speech.

"What are you implying?"

"I'm saying that child services are involved and they you may need to stay in foster care for a while."

My eyes grew wide.

"Foster care!? I'm not an orphan! My mother's still alive!"

"Only for a little while since there's no one else to take care of you."

"I have friends! I'll go and hang there!"

"Yeah, I don't think so." I then turned to see a man stand at the doorway. My stomach coiled, he looked like one of those day care people minus the apron. "Hi, I'm Phil, I'm with Child Protection Services." He took his hand out to shack but I only looked at it as if it was contaminated with visible germs.

"Why can't I stay with my friends?"
Phil took his hand back to rub the back of his neck as he gave a nervous laugh.

"We did a background check on your neighborhood and the people who live there and concluded that it wasn't a suitable environment for you." He then chuckled "Or for anyone at that matter."

Now I was darn right mad. How dare he talk about my friends that way.

"You don't know jack shit about them."

"Oh trust me, I do." He shivered.

I hated him. I hated him more than I've ever hated another human being.

The officer than got up from his seat.

"Phil here will take you to where it is you gotta go." I snapped my head towards him "If you have any questions, ask him."

"Like hell I will!"

I barked as I pushed Phil aside and stormed out of the room.

"Men! Get him!"

Before I even had so much a chance to blink there were two men holding me down preventing me from even moving. This of course was the part were I started cussing like mad as they hulled me to a white van. And you can bet I was screaming and kicking all the way there. Made me feel like a child throwing a tantrum like that.

Most of the trip was mostly spent with me kicking the seats in front of me and listening to possibly the worst music ever. I mean, I kinda figured from his appearance he was a jolly religious man, but to go as far as to lesson and sing along to prayer music was a whole other story. Worst part of it all was the fact that the air conditioning was broken and it was hot and miserable.

"She's not dead." I complained yet again "She's alive, I don't need adoption."

"What? Nooo." Phil then finally turned off his crappy music and turned back to face me. "You're merely going to a foster home."

"To be adopted."
"No, it's just where you'll be staying until your mother recovers…or until 30 days."
I raised an eyebrow.

"30 days? What happens after that?"

"We'll just have to find a place where you can live for a longer period of time."

"Great." I mumbled kicking the seat again "Just great."

I then digged into my pocket and pulled out my phone. No new messages.