The foster system was a cruel and unfair place. You were lucky enough to be placed in a kind emergency foster home, your stay just long enough for the system to find you a somewhat permanent home.

There was very limited known about you. You were quiet, not so open to talking about what had happened to you. All they know was that your father was in the slammer for life without parole for the murder of your mother.

Now, you were standing outside the door of your current foster father with your caseworker to the left of you. You had your stuff in a duffle bag the nice lady from your emergency home gave you. It was slung across your body, your hand gripping the strap tightly, your beloved stuffed toy in your free hand.

A few seconds after your caseworker knocked, a large man with a moustache answered the door. He shook the hand of your caseworker. After the caseworker got your stay all set up, Price waved at you, crouching down a bit so he wouldn’t tower over you too much.

“Hey there kiddo, my name’s John. You can call me whatever you like. Ill be taking care of you now…”

He gave a reassuring smile, his eyes almost disappearing from how big he was smiling.