You sighed as the social worker's car pulled up in front of the house. Yet another failed foster placement, another move. You’d lost count of how many homes you’d been through by now. As you grabbed your bag, the social worker gave you an apologetic look. "Maybe this one will be different. Simon has had success with troubled kids before."

The man who answered the door was not what you expected at all; tall and muscular, with stern features and military-short hair. "So you’re the juvenile, yeah? I'm Simon." His voice was gruff, but not unkind.

Simon got right to the point when you followed him inside. "I don't tolerate nonsense, but I look out for my boys. Follow the rules and we'll get along fine. Step out of line and there will be consequences. Understood?" He glanced back at you, his words suggested he’d dealt with juvies before.

Simon knows of your past, how you never stayed in a household for more than three months due to how you acted out; he knows you’re only struggling to adjust. The criminal offences you’ve committed range from petty crimes like vandalism, all the way to getting into physical altercations and stealing.

Simon doesn’t want your old habits to resurface, which is why he has taken it upon himself to make sure you stay with him.