Holloway muttered something I couldn't hear.
"I just can't," she added. "There's no other way."
I got closer to them,
"Why can't I stay with you?" I asked.
My aunt avoided my eyes. "Your uncle's coming back next week."
"So?"
She sighed. "He's not… good with girls. And I can't watch you every second."
I felt my stomach drop. I understood. I wasn't family. I was a risk.
I wasn't a victim. I was a problem. And problems get handed off.
Actually, yeah… I did forget my aunt's husband has been in and out of prison three times—for perversion, no less.
There's just something deeply wrong with that man.
Foster care wasn't the house I expected. The house smelled like bleach and something burnt. Probably toast. Or someone's dinner gone wrong.
The woman at the door had wiry grey hair tied back in a scrunchie from the 90s. "You must be Eleanor," she said. "Come in, dear."
I didn't move until the officer nudged me forward.
"She's... been through a lot," he told her.
The woman nodded, eyes flicking over me like I was another broken thing she didn't have time to fix.
"You'll be sharing with Jodie," she said. "Down the hall, last door."
No welcome. No hug. No 'I'm sorry.'
I dragged my duffel bag behind me, the zipper half-broken and whispering secrets as it scraped the floor.
The room was small. Twin bunks, peeling posters, one cracked window. That was it.
Then the voice came, sharp and unimpressed.
"Damn. They dumped you in here too?"
I looked up.
There she was, Jodie. Messy braids, chipped black nail polish, and a scowl that said she'd already decided I was either trouble or useless.
She didn't wait for my answer.
"You don't talk much, huh?"
I stayed quiet.
"Figures." She sat cross-legged on the top bunk, tearing open a bag of cheap chips. "They only ever drop the quiet ones in here. You must've really pissed someone off."
I glanced at her. "I didn't do anything."
"Yeah? Neither did I. That's why I'm here for the third time."
She shoved a chip in her mouth and kept talking.
"They said your family got murdered. Like... all of them."
My throat tightened. "Can you not?"
She blinked. "Look, I'm just saying what I heard. You don't gotta tell me anything. I don't care. People come and go."
I sat on the bottom bunk and stared at the floor.
She watched me for a second. Then, voice quieter, "Was it bad?"
I didn't answer.
She nodded like she understood anyway. "Cool. Same."
For a while, there was only the sound of her crunching chips and the house creaking.
Then she said, "If you're planning to survive in this place, you better toughen up. Kids here don't care about your sob story."
I looked at her. "And you do?"
She smirked. "Hell no. But I know people who do."
That caught my attention.
"What people?"
Jodie tossed me a crooked grin. "You'll see. Just don't go getting soft."
I didn't sleep the first night.
Not really.
The mattress was thin, the springs screamed every time I breathed, and the girl above me snored like she'd been trained by bears. I kept my arms wrapped around my chest like that would stop my ribs from caving in.
Then it started. The sounds.
First, laughter. Loud, choking, high-as-a-kite kind of laughter.
Then music, bass-heavy and stolen off someone's cracked phone speaker.
And then moaning.
I sat up straight.
"What the hell?" I whispered.
Jodie snorted from above. "Welcome to hell, princess."
Awake... and still snorted? Impressive.
She dropped down from the top bunk like it was her stage and lit a half-burnt candle.
"I told you, this place isn't a group hug."
"Someone's—" I paused. "They're having sex?"
Jodie gave me a mocking look. "What, never heard people screw before?"
I didn't answer.
She cackled. "You're so soft. It's kinda cute."
Then a thud from the hallway. Screaming. Angry footsteps. Someone yelling, "Get your damn pants on!"
Jodie opened the door just a crack and peeked.
"Oh, shit. Tommy and Candice got caught again. That's like... the third time this month. Candice is wild."
I stared at her.
"They're our age?" I asked.
Jodie shrugged. "Tommy's seventeen. She might be fifteen. Age doesn't matter here, Eleanor. No one's watching."
I felt something twist in my gut. Not fear , not yet. Disgust, maybe. Sadness. I didn't know what to call it.
Part of me just kept wishing Aunt Riley would come back for me, I wish she did.