All Chapters of Foster: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"Thank you so much for coming," The woman threw a smile over her shoulder as she pushed open the door with her forearm. One thing instant was the smell of children — for a woman housing no more than ten, the place reeked like thirty. It didn't stop there, it looked like thirty, also. Toys were strewn across the floors, the walls were lined with sheet paper and decorated with crayon, half-eaten meals decorated almost all bare surfaces; and though the room itself lacked children dancing like lice, the windows of the far face of the room presented lively images of the tots swarming the backyard. Nine of them... No, eight. "I didn't know what to do, she refuses to move so I can't take her to the doctor,"

As I watch the man lift his watch to his eyes with a sigh, I climb to my feet. I know what he's about to say -- all I need is a glance to the distant clock of the microwave to confirm it. "Well, I've gotta get going, kiddo," And I was right. All I do is shift to my toes and slide my arms around the man's neck. He needs to iron the shirt, I notice it the second I embrace him... but I won't tell him that. I feel safe as he wraps his arms around my ribs and holds me the very way he has since I was a child. The feeling even lingers after I step away from him with a small smile and speak

"Bully," I flash my eyebrows upwards as I speak a brief word. It's then that I shove him away, and the boy stumbles. I'm the one he should be afraid of; he can never and will never anticipate what impulses I could have and act upon; I could shove him, like I have many times of the evening. I can simply start crying, completely take him off guard and make him feel awful for teasing me (it is a stunt I have pulled before, one that worked with great impact). Nothing teaches an ass he's an ass quite like the good old waterworks -- and I can really get them going.

I don't know how long I've been awake when I'm finally aware of consciousness -- the one thing I do know is that I dreamt of Sasha last night. I still feel the effects; the effects aren't just an innocent sweat and fast heartbeat... I can't bear to think about the exact detail of what she's done. She makes me feel dirty; she makes me feel like the very same dirty-old-men I'd rather die and than see her with. Maybe she doesn't make me feel that way, maybe she simply accentuates aspect is already here; the aspect that wants nothing less tha

"This will be your third beer tonight, are you sure you wanna have another one?" He asks the question but he's already handing me one. I accept; soon enough I'm settled into a perch on the middle of the sofa and hidden partially beneath a knitted blanket."I'll need it if I'm sitting through 'Terminator', besides, you've already had three -- you're actually going for four,"