TW: Abuse 

Thud! My teacher slammed a piece of paper onto my desk. I nervously peered down at it and my heart dropped. Another F. And I thought I had done well. All of my excitement just melted out of me. I put my head down on my desk as I thought about what my foster parents would think. I could only hope it wouldn't be as bad as last time. It's funny how when you want time to speed up, it slows down, yet the one time I wanted it to pass slowly, it went by all too fast. Before I knew it, the bell was ringing and school was over. I grabbed my stuff and left as fast as I could, not wanting anyone to see me cry.

 It was cold out, even for October. I winced as the harsh wind blew in my face. The skin on my hands was dry and painful. The leaves crunched beneath my feet. I looked up at all of the big signs in Times Square. The one thing I liked about this foster family was that I got to walk through Manhattan everyday. People were everywhere, tourists exploring, taxis everywhere, people walking. I walked down some stairs into the subway station, the subway blowing more cold air in my face as it whizzed by. I got on it and sat down quietly, pulling out my notebook and doodling. I had just finished sketching a witch costume when it pulled into my stop. I got out, already dreading what I knew would happen once I got home.

 I walked into the house and was immediately greeted by a kick in the stomach and I fell to the ground, my foster father towering over me, my foster mom behind him.  "We saw your grade on your history test." 

 "I'm sorry!" I cried, the tears breaking free. "I tried, I tried, I promise."

 "You little shit!" My foster mom yelled, punching me, her words slurring. She and my dad were clearly drunk.

 I hopped to my feet, fighting against the pain and ran as fast as I could to grab my bag. I grabbed it and stuffed whatever I could inside. My phone, sketch pad, and the stuffed animal my biological parents gave me before they died. I ran downstairs and my dad chucked a glass bottle at my head. It smashed against me cutting my arms and legs. I tried to fight through the pain and ran out the door, knowing it would only get worse if I stayed.

 I raced down the street as fast as I can, my foster "family" chasing behind me. I was running out of breath as I ran and ran, my arms and legs stinging from the broken glass. But I had to keep moving. I did track so I was a pretty fast runner and I made it almost all the way to Broadway before I collapsed. Maybe I lost them with all the people? I hoped so. It was too late, though. They had already found me. I cried out in pain as they stomped on me, hit me, and kicked me. Even though I was on a busy street, I felt alone. Invisible. Until I heard voices, people running towards me.

"Kerry, call 911!" A voice yell-led.

"It's gonna be okay." Someone said. "I promise."

I heard the piercing screams of sirens, and then the world went dark.

AN: Sorry this chapter was so short! I'll try to make them longer in the future.