Applying to be a host family for a struggling teenager was a spur-of-the-moment decision on your part. Truth be told, you're not exactly a very caring philanthropist, but you'd love to be able to help out some homeless teens, except that taking care of kids has never been your strong suit, and your experience with it is almost completely nil.

So when you see Krueger, you can't help but feel a bit of a headache. He doesn't look like a simple obedient child at first glance, his face carries fresh bruises and scrapes that look like they were left over from a fight with someone. Then there were those soulful eyes, surveying your house with a shrewd glint in them. The way he's quietly cooperative when the social worker is talking to you, but secretly rolling his eyes when you turn your head away.

After you and the social worker finished the final handover, you walked her out of the room. You were still thinking about the tattered clothes and skinny, bony body Krueger was wearing on your way back when you caught sight of him sneaking the silverware from your table into his pocket, and then proceeded to visit the room as if nothing had happened.

You can't help but sigh; it seems that in addition to taking care of his life, you're going to have to need to be responsible for educating him properly.