trixgirl4

"Vanessa?" Stephanie asked. "What?" I answered. Stephanie gave me a glare before continuing. "We are moving to Maine." My heart dropped. "What part?" I asked. "Steve got a job in a town called Canterbury." she says nonchalantly. No, this can't be happening. No. No. No. I thought to myself. "May I be excused?" I ask. "But Van-" Steve starts. "May. I. Be. Excused?" I ask, tears starting to roll down my cheek. I don't wait for an answer. I stomp up to my room, each step bringing me closer to exploding. I don't look back. I know that seeing my foster family emotionally distressed won't help my emotional state. When I slam my door, I see th

"Happy birthday to you!" My foster family sang. "Time to make a wish, Vanessa!" My 7 year old foster brother, Nolan said. "I wish my mother was alive," I think to myself. I blow out the candles on my cake. I am 15 today. Almost old enough to drive a car. Almost old enough to choose who I live with. "Cake time! Cake time! Cake time!" My 2 year old foster sister Emily squeals. As my foster mother, Stephanie, cuts up the cake, Nolan asks, "What did you wish for, Vanessa?" "Now Nolan, if Vanessa tells you her wish, it won't come true," my foster father, Steve, says. I feel as though as I got stabbed in the heart. "It won't come true anyway,

I was only 8 years old when my mother was shot to death in Lincoln Park, located in Canterbury, Maine. Me and my parents moved here from Duluth, Minnesota. After a day of unpacking our things and settling into our new, tiny home with white paint peeling off the walls, my dad suggested that we take a walk in the park. My mom happily agreed to the idea, and packed a basket full of food. She was, of course, oblivious that her life was getting ready to come to an end. We walked through our run-down, compacted, and flat out ugly neighborhood to get there. I, like most eight year olds did, skipped all the way to the park. I saw several children