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My New Foster Home Was Horrible

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My new foster home was horrible. I 've been here for one month and I 'm still not used to it. Sleeping in a new bed, eating breakfast by myself. I usually never see the people who live here, and I 'm pretty sure they never see me. I guess they 're always busy or have important jobs, but they don 't seem to care much about me. Most of my time was spent by myself. I traveled to different areas of the house, exploring, but I am always disappointed when after searching every room, I 'm still left alone. I go to the same school as I went to when living at my mom 's house. Only because I live in the same town. My mom 's house is only ten minutes away when walking. I 'm always tempted to go visit her, but I never do. I think today I will. Its a …show more content…

I don 't mind it, because it feels good. I walk the only way I know, towards my moms. I don 't notice much of anything I walk by. My mind is in another place. In what feels like no time, I reach my moms. I walk closer just taking it in. This is home. This is where I 'm supposed to be. I 'm not supposed to be in some lonely home, where no one is there to take care of me. That life wasn 't mean for me. I know somewhere in my mom she 's still that person who would laugh and push my sister and I on swing sets. I just have to find her. I knock on the door, but no one answers. I try the doorknob and it opens. I walk inside breathing in the air, but it doesn 't ' smell like home. It reeks in here. When I lived here, it was all lemony and crisp. "Mom," I say. I don 't hear an answer. I walk up the stairs and down the hall into her room. It smells like alcohol and here and there are beer bottles all over the floor. I walk into the bathroom that 's connected to the room to find my mom kneeling over a toilet bowl, hurling. She still has a hold of a beer bottle. I 'm confused on what to say to her. I wasn 't prepared for this. I know when I left her she was bad, but this is different. This is almost as if she had stopped living. She might as well be dead. "Mom, its me." I walk over the threshold of the bathroom and fumble with a button on my jacket. "Oh, Zoya, your back." Her head turns upwards from the toilet bowl and she looks at me, smiles, her eyes are half

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