It was a couple hours since I was dropped off at the local police station by the Cullen's. Why did I care if this family left me here? I didn't care if they had been the only ones to be kind to measure maybe it was nice but it was gone and it wasn't coming back. I was resigned to being shuffled back between foster homes. My Social worker Christine Thompson is nice enough but she is just too overloaded she doesn't have time for a delinquent like me when there were more hopeful children she could help, children that can be helped. Ms. Thompson briskly walked into the office gave me a good chewing out for scaring my poor foster parents to death, yeah right like they actually cared, then she causally informed me I would now be staying temporarily in the Port angels boy's home until a new foster home was found.
Two days later she was back and chewing me out for fighting. Like it was even my fault that I was jumped for being smaller than the 8th graders. Is it my fault that I have a cut lip and a black eye but no one saw it my way no I started the fight those boys were just defending themselves against my psychotic break, yeah right. One day, when I get out of here there all going to pay I'll be the president or something and I'll make sure they can't find a job anyone. I'll black list them or something but somehow they'll pay.
It was the third day that something good finally seemed to happen, I found a way of escape. I had been running to escape some of the bigger boys when I ran through a door. It led to a stair well I ran all the way up the stairs and found access to the roof. Outside was a small brick building turns out it was an out janitors room but now it was out of use. I broke the lock and started to use it to escape from reality. It is soo easy just to run up there and hide to stay in there until I have to return, in there no one can hurt me.
It was one of these days while I was hiding in there hoping I could escape and never have to come out that someone knocked on the door. Swallowing I carefully swung the door open. To my surprise instead of being my social worker or some 8th grader hoping to get in a punch or to it was Carlisle Cullen, "can I come in?" Unable to form a coherent thought I nodded.
He smiled and came in sitting delicately on the floor next to the make shift bed I made for napping. I walked over and sat beside him trying to find out what he could possibly want. "My family and I got home last week and we had a problem," Carlisle spoke calmly catching my eye, "we couldn't stop thinking about this young boy that we met in the city one day."
My eye's nearly bulged out of their sockets and my heart leaped. Was he really saying what I think he was saying, "w-what are you saying," the words barely came out.
Carlisle smiled at him and gently and calmly, "we need this boy you see. We need him to complete our family. If he would like that is?" My face nearly split in half as I launched myself at him and yelled, "Yes!"