If I had known it before

My mom met my dad in high school when they were still teenagers. Not long after, she became pregnant with me and had me when she was very young. Her family didn’t accept me, and my dad left her shortly after my birth. She became a single mom, but she couldn’t bear being alone at such a young age, so she put me up for adoption. She got rid of me. From the start, I wasn’t wanted. That’s what they told me growing up. I lived with many foster families, but it never lasted. They said I was too loud or that I didn’t listen. Eventually, I gave up trying to be the perfect child, trying so hard to fit in. I’m not perfect, and I accept that. You’re only a fool if you try to be something you’re not. Fools don’t survive in this world. You have to be stronger, smarter, and—most importantly—never trust anyone. Only trust yourself. That’s my rule. I have only myself, and that should be enough. Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. Chapter 2 I grew up in Nashville, Tennessee, and my birth parents were from Charlotte—or at least, that’s what I was told. I never looked for them. I mean, why would I? They didn’t want me from the start. Nobody wanted me in my previous foster homes either, so I stayed in the adoption center until I turned 17. Then I left. I was smart—so smart, in fact, that I got a scholarship to a school in another state, in a bigger city. That’s where everything began. But first, let me tell you about my only friend—my only family—Jacob. He was the only person I trusted. We met at one of my foster homes. The family had five kids—three of us were adopted, and the other two were their biological children. They took us in from different states because they got paid more that way. We didn’t have a place to sleep. We barely had food. We wore the same clothes for months, and they didn’t even let us bathe. Nobody noticed how badly they treated us. They hit us, made us feel like animals. I was 10 at the time, and Jacob was 13. He was sweet, always cheerful. He made me laugh even in the worst moments. He took care of me. He was my big, protective brother, and I looked up to him. Jacob had a plan—an escape plan. He had blond, curly hair and deep blue ocean eyes. Even as kids, he was always taller than me. His story was heartbreaking, but he never let it change him. His parents died in a car accident. He had no other family—at least, none they could find. I never asked him much about it, and he never talked about it. “What happened in the past stays in the past,” he used to say. They told me that after the accident, when they found him in the car, he didn’t speak for three years. Probably from the shock. Not that he talks much now, anyway.