“They put me into human foster care. There were no parents to terminate their rights, so I bounced from home to home for several years. I was always quiet, a little timid. But it wasn’t until my fourth home, when I was eleven, that I stopped speaking altogether. He wasn’t really a good man, or I guess he was a terrible one. He fostered for the paycheck more than anything. So I lived in a room with three other girls, and across the hall was a room with four boys. We all had bunk beds.”
Dread grew in my stomach as I feared where this story was heading. If that man had touched her, I’d rip his head off. I didn’t care if it was cold-blooded murder. Anyone who had hurt a child, especially a vulnerable one under their protection? They deserved every scrap of pain coming their way.
“It was crow
