A/N: big thanks for the reviews! A little bit of a trigger warning, there will be a little bit of talk of thoughts of death later on in the chapter. I also just want to say that I started a new semester in university yesterday which means that it might be a little bit longer between updates but I will try my hardest not to take too long.

Her hair is brown.

She's standing at the foot of your bed with a soft smile on her face and her skin is glowing like the sun.

She doesn't look sad anymore, not like when you last saw her. She looks at peace.

'Mom?'

It feels like it's been an eternity since you last saw her eyes. They're brown like yours, wide like yours. She nods. 'It's me, Callie.'

You sit up and look around you. You aren't in the Fosters' house, you are somewhere unfamiliar. The walls are all white, everything is white. It makes her look even brighter.

'Where am I?'

She sighs softly and looks around like she doesn't quite know herself. 'You're growing up so fast, baby.'

There is a blissful silence in the room for a while and you breathe in the serenity of it all. Her pale skin and her soft hands, her brown eyes and her dark hair, you remember It all. It feels good.

'What's happening?'

'You don't know?'

You shake your head. 'No.'

'Callie, baby, I need you to let them in.'

You know who she is talking about. 'I can't. They won't like what they see.'

'how could anyone not like what they see, baby? You're wonderful.'

You sigh. 'I'm not.'

'What happened to you, Cal? You used to be such a happy girl.'

You stand up from the bed and walk towards her, you want to wrap your hands around her. You want to feel what you used to feel again. You want your mom.

'You can't touch me, honey.'

'Why?' you ask.

'You have to go back to them.'

You reach her and you are only inches apart. You could reach out if you wanted to, you could wrap your hands around her wrist. You could take her into your arms. You could touch her. It's been so long.

'I forget what you smell like.' You say.

She smiles softly and shakes her head. 'That's okay, baby, There's other people now. There's so much more for you.'

'I don't deserve it.'

'Callie, let them love you.'

You sit down on the end of the bed and bring your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around them. 'I'm not worth it.'

'Yes you are.'

She's standing across the room now and her arms are straight by her side. She looks upset. 'How can you say that, baby? How can you think so little of yourself?'

You sit down on the edge of the bed and fidget with your fingers. 'Because everyone else thinks that.'

'But Stef' She says her name you you stop dead, your heart pounding, and look at her. 'She told you that you weren't and she meant that.'

'So?'

'They love you, Cal.'

You shrug. 'They'll get over me.'

'They wont, honey, trust me.'

You stand up and it hits you suddenly that you are angry. Are you angry at her? Are you angry at your father? Are you angry at yourself?

'Everyone else does,' you are shouting, but you can't stop. 'Everyone else forgets about me. That's the way it is, don't you see that? I'm not supposed to be here for me, I'm not supposed to be loved and hugged and cared for. I'm not worth that.'

You stand up and pace, running your hands through your hair. 'I'm taking up space. I'm just…I'm…"

'Scared.' She says it softly, carefully. She speaks like she's giving you an answer, like you've been waiting for her to come to you and say it. 'You're scared that they're going to love you more than you can handle. You're scared that they're going to love you and then let you go. You're scared that they're going to split you and your brother up. You're scared Callie and, the thing is, you don't have to be. Not anymore.'

But you do. You always have to be scared. You have to keep your defences up high and strong and worry about what's going to happen to you and what's going to happen to Jude. You were put on this world to be strong for him, but lately you can't even do that.

'The thing is, mom' you whisper. 'I'm even scared of myself.'

Just like that, you are staring up at the stars, shivering. You want to close your eyes and see her again, you want to say sorry and say you love her and say you're not mad, but you know that it won't happen.

You think that you'd better stand up and walk back to the Fosters, but your body doesn't want to co-operate. You're too tired. When was the last time you slept? The last time you ate?

You know that you'll get sick laying out here in the cold like this, but you can't get up. Not quite yet. Not for a while.

Maybe you could sleep for a while; maybe someone will find you and carry you home. Maybe no one will find you. Would that be so bad?

You think of death and it's like a door at the end of a corridor. It's like a person you hate, but are deeply intrigued by. It's like a bad painting that you can't quite stop looking at. It's like a big, long sleep and you are exhausted but you can't quite get to it.

Life is like a movie that you hate, but can't quite stop watching.

For the longest time, you've wanted to know what's coming up. Will it get any better? Is there going to be a character that comes in and saves the whole thing?

Lately, it's like you're standing up from your seat, waiting for the right moment to leave the theatre.

It's not right now, but it seems to be getting closer.

You close your eyes and somewhere in the distance you hear yelling. You hear cars on the road about half a mile down the hill. You hear a plane above your head. You feel a little colder as a breeze washes over your arms. You feel a few drops of rain fall on your face.

"Oh my god, kid, are you okay?"

You need to open your eyes and get the hell out of here, but you can't seem to wake up.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

Wake up, Callie. Wake up, come on.

"Hi, I need an ambulance-"

You hear nothing.

There's a beeping coming from somewhere near your left ear and it's making your head hurt, You try to turn towards it but you can't quite open your eyes. It feels as though there are weights on your eyelids, and no matter how hard you try, it just doesn't work.

To your right, there is someone holding onto your hands lightly, you wonder if it's her again.

You wonder if you are dead.

With every ounce of your strength, you move your thumb to let her know that you are there and you quietly whisper her name. Mom.

"Callie?"

The voice that responds is tired and worn down. It's not who you want it to be, though, and you feel so unbearably exhausted. You feel like, if you open your eyes, you might cry. The last time you woke up in a bed, your mother was looking back at you.

"Come on, love. Open your eyes."

It takes a moment, but you manage to pry them open a little and you get unbearable brightness in return. You swallow against the dryness in your mouth and let out a tired sigh. For a second, you stare up at the roof and try your best to avoid her stare, but you know that it won't last for long. She will want to know all the fun details of your eventful breakdown and you will give her nothing in return. That's how it works.

You turn around and she is gripping on your hand with both of her own, smiling softly.

"It's so good to see you awake."

You give her a small smile. "What happened to me?"

"Dehydration and exhaustion," she says. "You should be out of here by tomorrow morning."

You tell her that's good and you both sit in silence for a while, looking at each other and away from each other, both of you scared to speak.

"We were looking for you."

"Sorry."

"No." she speaks firmly and sits down at the end of your bed, never letting go of your hand. "You don't get to just say sorry, Callie. You left the house and walked away without telling us where you were going. Do you know how worried we were? We didn't get a call until half past three in the morning and…Callie, you don't get to just walk away."

...

'What the hell do you think you're doing?'

You are ten years old and you are balancing on a stool in the kitchen, trying to reach the cupboard. Jude hasn't eaten for three days and he's starting to look sick.

'I…'

'I asked you a damn question. What. Are. You. Doing?'

You look from the cupboard to his angry face and back to the cupboard again. If you take food and run, Jude will be okay. You might get a beating, but at least he won't be hungry. You move quickly, throwing the door open and grabbing packets of whatever you can find and hopping off of the chair. Somehow, you manage to get past him and up to Jude's room before he can grab you and you slam the door shut behind you, looking for something to block it with.

'Here' you throw Jude the stuff you grabbed and watch him pry open a packet of cookies with a huge grin on his face. 'Eat up.'

'Get the fuck down here, right now!'

You stop dead and consider your options. Stay in here and risk him getting in and hurting both of you, or taking a few punches so that he doesn't have to.

You wander down to the living room and find him standing at the door with his arms crossed. If his wife was home, he'd be hugging you right about now.

'You gonna tell me what the hell that was about?' he bellows.

'Jude…he hasn't eaten in a while. He needed food.'

He laughs. 'and that gives you the right to steal it?'

He opens up the front door and shakes his head. 'Get out my house.'

You turn on your heels so that you can go and get Jude, but he grabs your shoulder and pushes you out roughly.

'NO! I need to get my brother, let me get my brother.'

He throws you down so hard that you are laying face first in the mud and you can already feel blood coming out of your nose.

'Get the fuck away from my house, go! I never want to see your face again!'

...

"Why do you say that?" You ask quietly. "Why do you care if I walk away or not?"

The question must take Stef by surprise because she gives you a strange look. "Because we care about you Callie. It's not safe outside alone at night."

You close your eyes for a moment to clear your brain. There's a hundred million thoughts racing through your nerves, telling you not to trust this woman. All the bad things that people have done to you before, all the bad things you've done yourself. Why trust? Why bother?

Your stomach does summersaults. "Can I ask you a question?"

She nods. "Can you adopt Jude?"

For a moment, she looks utterly confused at your question, like you are speaking in a foreign language and then she sighs. "Why did you only say Jude?"

"Because he's the only reason I'm in your house."

It's the first time you've been truly honest since you met Stef and you wish that you could say something else. Something that will make her feel happy, but everything else you hoard inside you would only make her hate you. So you settle for something that might help Jude.

"What do you mean by that?"

You want to throw up. You are about to hurt her and you know it, but you do what needs to be done. If you push them away first then they can't be the ones to hurt you. You need to be in control. "Listen, Stef, let's not beat around the bush. You and Lena don't need another teenager around the house and I…" you swallow the lump in your throat. "I don't need people to take care of me. I've already tried that family thing and it didn't work out."

The thing about Stef is that she doesn't take shit from anybody. She speaks her mind and she lets you know when you are in the wrong. You expect her to tell you that you might be right. You expect her to get annoyed at you for being so honest with her. You expect her to walk away from you and never turn back, but then she speaks, softer than she ever has before, and it tears your heart in to pieces.

"I don't know why you do this to yourself. I wish you could see what I see."

"And what is that?"

"A beautiful young girl who has a whole life of greatness ahead of her."

There's something about you that doesn't like compliments. It's like, the second that someone speaks about you in a nice way, you want to lift your hand and slap them until their face is red. You don't really understand why that is, but it's happening right now.

"Yeah," you say "Well maybe you need to get to know me a little better."

"I'm trying!" She shouts. Loud. Angry. Tearful. "But you push everyone so damn far away; you don't let anyone get to know you because you're scared."

'You're scared that they're going to love you more than you can handle. You're scared that they're going to love you and then let you go. You're scared that they're going to split you and your brother up. You're scared Callie and, the thing is, you don't have to be. Not anymore.'

"Why the hell do people have to say that? I'm not scared. I stopped being scared a long time ago. Don't you get it? Do you not understand? I'm not worth all this hassle; I'm never going to be any good for you and Lena. I know what I am better than anyone else does and I know that, the second you learn about the parts of me you don't see, you'll be throwing me right out the door. I just want to make sure you won't be throwing Jude out with me."

"Stop it." There is a side of Stef you've never seen before and she is showing it to you right now. She's shouting, and standing at the end of your bed, and you are almost certain she is about to hit you. You are not scared. You're not.

You. Are. Not. Scared.

"Stop putting yourself down. Stop hurting people so that you don't need to face your problems. Stop it, Callie. You don't just hurt yourself when you do this, can you not see that? You hurt Jude, too."

"Get out."

And she does.

Just like you thought she would.

Let me know what you think?