Chapter 1

one

Avery – Nine Years Old

I sit in the pantry of the old house, hiding in between the cupboards. I have my hands over my ears, tears streaming down my face, and I can feel the blood mixing with my tears.

Since entering foster care five years ago, I have been moved to eight different foster homes, all only wanting me for the government paycheck or for other certain activities. My father never did claim me, and I have had to suffer because of him. Each home I was placed in has been worse than the other, I ran away from three of them. The first two, they sent me back to the children's home when I stopped being useful to them or stopped being a certain age, and the last three, I was hit more times than I can count, and starved every day. Each time I ran, I was found and taken back to the children's home, with the foster parents stating I was unruly, and violent. And the social workers believed them.

The home I'm currently in is one of the worst; my foster father Ben is a mean drunk. I walked in from the school bus, and he was already drinking while sitting on the filthy sofa, watching the hockey game. His team lost, and I stepped into the living area at the wrong time. I became his target, and to make it worse, the game was a month old. He likes to re-watch it for reasons I don't know.

Last month, he hit me with a bat on my side and cracked three ribs, but told the doctor I fell down the stairs. This time, though, he hit me on the side of my head. I blacked out and, when I woke up…. I shake my head, more tears falling down my face, not wanting to think about what he was trying to do. I've been in enough homes to know what he wanted. I could see his bat next to my head and I quickly grabbed it, hitting him on his head. He dropped beside me, and I scrambled to my feet, running to the pantry where my secret hiding place is, in between the cupboards. And I here wait for Hannah, my foster mother, to arrive home. She's nasty, likes to slap me across the face a lot, but as soon as she's home, I can make a run for it. They'll start to argue, and that's my chance. I'd rather live on the streets than any foster home again.

I don't know how long I sit here but I start to feel dizzy, I blink my eyes and gently press on the side of my face. There's a big lump there. I hear a bang, making me jump, and I look toward the pantry door. It doesn't open, though. Then I hear the screaming, and I breathe in a sigh of relief.

Hannah's back from her day job.

I quickly but quietly sneak out and head toward the backdoor when their arguments start; it's my only chance, so it's now or never.

As I open the door, I hear her yell, "What do you mean you hit her with the bat again? They'll get fucking suspicious, then we'll lose a big portion of our fucking income, you moron! The Romanians are offering thousands for her!"

I don't wait to hear his reply, realizing she's talking about selling me, and I run as fast as I can out the backdoor which leads into an alleyway, and I turn right. As soon as I get to the end, I run right into a policeman.

He grabs a hold of my arms. "Whoa there, sweetheart."

I kick out, screaming, "No, let me go, I won't go back, I won't."

He frowns then gets a good look at my head, his eyes hardening.

"I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" I shake my head again as my tears fall from my eyes, then I hear my name being angrily screamed.

"Avery!"

I still in the policeman's arms, and he looks at me with understanding.

"They your parents?" he asks gently.

I shake my head and whisper, "Foster." He nods and gently guides me toward his cop car.

"Let's go get you checked out, okay?"

I look at him, surprised that he's not taking me back to them, that he's breaking protocol, but I keep quiet, and I nod as he helps me into his car. I look to my right and see Ben standing at the mouth of the alleyway, his hands behind the back of his head, face red, fuming that I got away. He's looking up and down the street for me, not realizing I'm in the cop car. I turn my head, not wanting to look at him ever again, as the nice man drives off.

An hour later, I'm sitting in a curtained off room at the hospital when the curtain opens, and Mrs. Reeves comes in. I look down. Unlike when we first met, she hasn't been the nicest as the years went on; she thinks I'm to blame for everything. The one time I tried to tell her what was happening, she told me to stop making up stories, that they have been really good foster parents before I came into their home, so now I just keep my mouth shut.

"What have you done now, Avery?" she asks with a sigh, but I don't look up or answer her, even when the nice officer enters the room.

"You must be with Child Protective Services?"

Mrs. Reeves shakes his hand. "Yes, I am. I've known Avery here since she was four years old, and she's been having difficulties in the homes she's been placed in. When I got your phone call, I contacted her foster parents, who are sick with worry. She tripped on the bottom stair and slammed her head into the wall, then ran away because she thought she'd get in trouble." She shakes her head, and I stiffen. It's a good lie, but I won't go back, I'll run when they aren't looking!

The police officer looks skeptical, and hope builds in my chest while he clears his throat.

"The doctors documented numerous burn marks on her back, th—" He doesn't get to continue when she jumps in.

"Yes, her birth mother abused her before she ended up in our care."

The officer nods, his jaw ticking as he states, "She also has numerous fresh scars on her upper thighs, inside of her arms, stomach, and lower back."

I start to shake, that was my last home. They would cut me anytime I tried to sneak food from the kitchen. They only allowed one piece of bread and water all day, and they would also have strange men and women come over in the evenings, who I would have to serve in my underwear. I ran after one of them tried to touch me, and I was found by an elderly man a few hours later. They took me straight back into care; the Jenkins claimed I was abusive to the other children and just too much work. I never went back.

Mrs. Reeves looks back at me in shock as the officer stands taller, crossing his arms over his chest."I take it those are not from her birth mother."

Mrs. Reeves shakes her head and walks over to me. She gently places her hand on my cheek. I flinch, and she frowns. "Talk to me, Avery. What happened?"

I start to cry, and I shake my head, before the officer kneels in front of me, forcing Mrs. Reeves to take a step back as worry etches her features.

"How many homes have you been placed in, Avery?" Mrs. Reeves frowns at him, confused with his question.

I whisper, "Eight."

He nods. "Can you tell me about them?"

I shrug and look at Mrs. Reeves. She has compassion in her eyes, and despite doing a poor job of keeping me safe, she used to be really nice, so I whisper and hope they believe me.

"The first one, the daughter didn't like me, so she did things that got me sent back into care. The second one didn't want me anymore because I was of no use for them; they would take pictures of me in only my underwear, and as soon as I hit a certain age, they sent me back to the home." They both stiffen but I continue, "The next four, they were horrible. They didn't feed us or clothe us properly, and when the beatings started, that's when I would run." Mrs. Reeves gasps in shock, putting her hand over her mouth, while the officers face goes red. But I don't stop. "Home number seven, they would only feed us one slice of bread a day. We were allowed water but nothing else, if you were caught trying to get more food, they cut us with a knife." I wipe my tears and look up to Mrs. Reeves so she can see my eyes. "They would have parties in the evenings, and we were to hand food out to them in only our underwear. One of the Jenkins' friends tried to touch me on my privates, so I ran." I sniffle and Mrs. Reeves starts to cry; these are the homes she placed me in.

The officer takes my hand gently. "Why did you run from this current one, darling?"

I sniffle again. "I tried to stay there and be quiet but Ben drinks, and few weeks ago, he broke my ribs with his bat and told the doctor I fell down the stairs." Mrs. Reeves gasps. "Today I came off the school bus and he was watching his hockey game, it was an old one and they lost, but he keeps rewatching it. He came after me with the bat again, and he hit me hard on the head. I went to sleep but when I woke up, he, he, he was t-trying to t-t-take my pants off, a-a-and when I ran o-o-out the door, I heard Hannah shout a-a-about losing money from the R-R-Romanians, because they are s-s-s-selling me to them."

I start to cry uncontrollably, and the officer picks me up ,and puts me on his lap. I cling to him as I hear Mrs. Reeves crying, too.

His chest rumbles against my head when I hear him talk. "Dispatch, this is officer Tony Gibson, requesting back up at the Lakewood Children's hospital. Underage child abused by foster parents, several homes in need of inspection for abuse, neglect, and sexual exploitation of a minor."

"Ten-four, Officer Gibson, dispatch on the way. ETA ten minutes."

He strokes my head and clears his throat. "Mrs. Reeves, if you check your files, you'll see I am a registered foster parent with my wife Natalie. I would like her to be placed with us under emergency placement, please."

Mrs. Reeves nods. "I'll call right away so you can take her immediately. Going into a group home again will just traumatize her more." He nods as she looks at me. "I'm so sorry, sweet girl." More tears fall from my eyes, and I close them with my hand gripping the nice man's uniform.

I hear Mrs. Reeves leave the room, and for the first time in years, I feel safe. I feel his chest rumble again.

"Hey baby, I need you to come to the Lakewood Children's hospital. No, I'm okay…yes I'm sure, baby, let me speak." He chuckles a little. "I have a sweet nine-year-old girl for you to meet, we'll be bringing her home with us, okay? I love you, too." He hangs up, then strokes my hair again, lulling me to sleep.

I don't know how long I sleep for, but I wake up hearing, "Oh my, she's a precious baby and so tiny. We need to help her gain more weight."

The officer's chest rumbles with a chuckle.

"I know, she's not had it easy." I feel another hand on my head, and I open my eyes to see a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes looking at me with concern.

"Hi sweetheart, I'm Natalie."

I whisper, "Hello."

She smiles sweetly and opens her arms, and I go to her. She lifts me up and off the man's lap. It's a good thing I'm so small because she's not that tall. I wrap my legs around her waist and lay my head on her shoulder, then she walks away without talking to anyone. I hear the policeman chuckle and follow us, but I don't pay attention, I just close my eyes. I hear Mrs. Reeves mumble, "Take good care of her, please." Guilt laces her voice.

"We will," Natalie states, and continues to walk out with me in her arms, with the nice police officer right behind her, carrying a lot of paperwork.

For the first time, I feel at peace and safe.