Pushing My Love

Amaia POV For the love of god, how the hell did they get another child in their care? How the hell the agency thinks they are qualified to be foster parents is beyond me. They are clearly just turning a blind eye now. Not that their eyes have ever been open. I’ve just got back to my house after school to find a tiny, maybe 2 year old curly blonde haired child sitting in the middle of the living room floor, head down, balling her eyes out. Tank & Kim, my foster parents or should I say the two alcoholics that are supposed to provide and care for me are sitting together on the couch, a bottle of beer in their hands with the TV up so loud, I'm guessing to try and drown out the noise of the toddler on the floor. It's like she's not even there. It's not until I come into view that they turn the TV down. Tank, a disgusting, fat, balding and topless 40 plus year old pig of a man looks at me as though he's just won the lottery which in his case he kind of has. Another child under his ‘care’ means another monthly paycheck from the fostering agency therefore more funds for his alcohol and gambling addictions. “Amaia, so glad you're home.” He drawls, while Kim gives her signature disgusting half toothless smirk. “Looks as though your stupid mother made another mistake. Meet your little sister.” What? My mother? Tank knows my mother?? I’m so confused and he doesn’t seem to be drunk enough to start spouting random crap yet. I look between him and Kim then down to the little girl who has finally noticed my presence and looked up. Holey f**k! It's like looking at my own reflection, the only difference is she has blonde wavy hair whereas mine is brown and she is of course about 15 years younger but what the actual hell? Where did she come from? Did our mother just give her to them? No, they wouldn’t take her without some sort of payment. I can’t believe she would do this again, not that I even know her. But seriously, again?! She left me at the local fire station of this shitty little town when I was barely 6 months old, wrapped in a pink blanket with my first and second name and date of birth written on a piece of paper and a rose gold filigree heart pendant. Since then I've been handed around 12 different foster homes, this one having been the longest one I’ve stayed in and by far the worst. I’ve spent 5 years under the ‘care’ of Tank and Kim and they are the most feral people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. I know for a fact they hardly shower, not to mention the stench that constantly wafts off them. It’s a lovely mix of body odor, cigarettes and beer and it's absolutely revolting. The house would be just as bad if it wasn’t for me. Even though I am made to keep the house clean I think I would anyway because the state of it when I arrived had me gagging and holding my breath. It took me weeks to get it to a point that I felt somewhat ok to sleep in it. Even thinking about it now makes me want to gag. “So you’ll be looking after her like the good big sister that you are Amaia.” Tank says. “It won’t hurt to start honing those maternal instincts of yours as no doubt you'll end up like your useless mother and up the duff soon enough.” Cackling like he's told the funniest joke out. I can only nod trying not to take their derogatory comments to heart. It's not like its an out of character thing for them to say, that's for sure. I'd only incur a beating if I was to talk back and I didn’t feel like one of those today, not that I’m not used to them but especially not with a little girl watching on. I go to her instead, slowly bending down to her level. “Come on little one,” I say quietly mustering up a smile for her. She looks at me with her big green tear filled eyes and opens her arms to me. I pick her up along with the tatty backpack and teddy that she is gripping like her life depends on it. I start walking to my bedroom, where she will have to sleep too as there are no other rooms when Tank pipes up again. I stop where I am, not even turning to look at him. “Don’t go doing anything stupid now Amaia. You might not survive this time if you do.” And with that I continue to my room. I’m used to threats from them as I did try to escape once 6 months after arriving here. I had just turned 13. I was so hungry and had managed to find a ten dollar note on the side of the road. I was going to walk the half hour to the supermarket and get some food to hide in my room for myself. It was still a week off from them receiving their monthly paycheck from ‘caring’ for me so there would have been no food for another week and I had been living on a box of muesli bars that I was rationing myself. It was also school holidays so I couldn’t even supplement myself on the provided school breakfast which I relied on during school term. I still do. I got caught halfway down the street and taken to the garage and Tank beat the crap out of me. He kicked me in the gut, I'm sure breaking ribs, hit me in the head and whipped me with his belt down my back to my upper thighs and didn’t stop even when they bled. I was then left there for three days but was in and out of consciousness for two which was a bonus I suppose. When he let me out he said next time I was to leave the house for anything other than school, I'd get worse and that if I did manage to escape he would always find me. And I didn’t doubt it. So now I just go to school, albeit a lot longer than school hours but the less time spent here the better. I have to keep up with my schoolwork or they don’t get their paycheck and could lose me. Yeah, I could fail on purpose and be rid of them but then I risk their wrath and being able to actually do something with my life once I manage to get out of here. I’m quite smart and pass everything with high marks so I’m not going to throw that away but art is my dream. I love to draw and have actually been selling some of my pieces for a while now. Mostly to get some funds behind me to get out of here and under a pseudonym as there is no way that I'd want Tank & Kim to get a whiff of it. I have a little over $5000 now in a secret account that my art teacher helped set up for me. Mrs Gibson. She is the only good thing about this place, the only one that actually cares and the only person that I will miss when I leave. I don’t know what she will think when I arrive at school tomorrow morning with a child. I look at the beautiful wee girl that I have managed to get to fall asleep in my bed and can’t help but wonder what the hell our mother was thinking. There is no doubt that this wee girl is my sister or at least related to me somehow. The resemblance is uncanny but, why? Why have another child to just give it up again. I just don’t understand. I sigh heavily, running my hand through the blonde waves. I don’t think I'll ever get the chance to understand. I grab her backpack by the end of my bed and start to empty it hoping there will be a bit of information in there as I realize I don’t even know her name. 3 pairs of leggings, 4 t-shirts and a jumper. A few pairs of socks and underwear, which is good as that should mean she's toilet trained, I hope and a sunhat. It's not much but I can make it work. I also find a small soft doll and a pair of sandals at the bottom. I open the front pouch to find a couple of muffin bake bars and a small, heavy envelope. I turn it over and my breath hitches when I see For Amaia scrawled on the front. I look at it for a while before taking a deep breath and slowly opening it. Inside there is a folded note and a rose gold filigree pendant that looks to be exactly the same as mine. I hold it in my hand as I open the note. Amaia Rose, 31st October I’m sorry to have to do this to you, I really am but this is your sister Emily Viola. I tried my hardest to keep her but my health is now beyond healing. Please look after her, my beautiful daughter and be what I couldn’t be for you and her. With all my love, your mother. V.R (Emily just turned three on October 28th. She was a preemie and is quite small but otherwise healthy.) I scoff at the last part, well thanks for that little tidbit of information ‘Mum’.I look again at my little sister who is still soundly asleep. Emily Viola. I don’t really know what to make of this letter but I do know that she is now my responsibility. I was planning to leave town as soon as I finished my last exam next month after overhearing Tank and Kim talk about how they were going to hire me out once I aged out at 18 so that they could still get money out of me. They were drunk when they said it but I know that they mean for s*x when they say ‘hire out’ and I am not taking any chances. I guess now I’ve got a little person to take with me. My little Emily. . It's been a couple of weeks since Emmy, my nickname for my little sister, arrived and she has become the light to my lonely life that I didn’t know I needed. She is so bright and happy all the time and loves to ‘hewp’ me around the house when I am cleaning. She goes to the kindergarten right beside my school during school hours and she is fitting in really well. She's very small for her age but that doesn’t hold her back according to her teachers. She's sweet and caring and has made a few friends which I was so happy to hear about but also sad. We have to leave town in a couple of weeks and I can’t risk not getting out of here. There is also no way that I'm leaving her with Tank & Kim. Even if she wasn’t my baby sister I don’t think I could leave her. No child should be in their care and one day I hope to bring their evils to light but until I get us away out of their grasp we won’t be doing anything but laying low. Oddly enough since Emmy arrived they haven't been around much which is great as the house hasn't been too messy and I actually get to spend some time with her, letting her do kid stuff. But their absence does worry me, I’m not sure why but my gut tells me something is off with them. We leave the house about 6am every morning. I do this to avoid coming across a vicious Kim coming down off a hangover. She is more human when she is drunk than not to the point where Tank always makes sure she has beer in hand. I have a huge ugly scar scar down my left forearm where she suddenly decided to attack me one morning before school just because I had the audacity to make myself some toast. It was the only thing that I used to have all day before the school breakfasts were brought in 2 years ago. Since then I make an effort to get up super early and leave the house before they wake. It takes about 20 minutes to walk to my school, five minutes longer than it used to as Emmy’s wee legs can’t go as fast and we head to Mrs Gibson’s art classroom. I have been doing this for the last couple years after Mrs Gibson found me sitting outside her classroom one morning studying. She let me know that if I wanted to get some extra drawing in she gets to school about 6am and that I could join her in her class if I wanted to and every school day since, I have. She is what I like to call my fairy godmother. Only in my head though not to her face. I think she has an idea what my life is like but has never asked outright but did say I could come to her if I needed anything with the emphasis on anything. I never asked because I knew if I said anything against my horror ‘carers’ that I would get punished. That was until 6 months ago when I'd overheard Tank & Kim’s idea to hire me out and knew I needed to make a plan. I asked if she could help me set up a bank account so I could sell some of my drawings. She didn’t ask why, just said that she would get it done. She even gave me her old cell phone, which I initially refused but she said it would just be going into a junk drawer never to be seen again so I could have it. I don’t think this was entirely true but she didn’t give up so I eventually accepted it, not wanting to upset her. She set up an email address and internet banking for me and showed me how to use it and even got a debit card sorted for me which I’ve asked her to hold on to. She also set me up with a reputable site to sell my drawings on which I am so grateful for as I didn’t even know where to start with that. She holds onto my phone like she does my debit card as I can’t risk Tank or Kim finding them. Not only would they take them but I'd hate to think of what punishment I'd get for that. I asked if I could find a part time job once and that earnt me a good slap so I never mentioned anything about earning money again.