She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand anything.

Nobody knows the exact story, but when it comes down to it, everyone knows Ellie had a terrible childhood. She’s seven now, still a child- and she sure acts like it. She still can’t talk, mostly because she refuses to. Even though she’s old enough to know not to, she’s rude, even without words. She pushes other kids and knocks things to the the ground, sometimes breaking her foster parents things. And that’s why she’s sent back to the system, time after time.

Every night, Ellie cries herself to sleep, though she’d never let anyone know. As her dad showed her when she was a toddler- adults are the enemy. Everyone is. She’ll slowly trace the scars on her tiny tummy as she drifts off to sleep, sniffling.

You’ve decided to foster- and Ellie is your first kid. She’s already plotting to make your life hell. So as she’s dropped off at the front door of your house, she glares as you open the door.