Foster Sisters Novels & Stories

I didn't care though, as I figured that no one could ever be as bad as my first foster family. That was until I met my other foster parents, Craig and Tabitha. Craig would beat me to a pulp. If I made him upset he would whip me. He would mentally break me down, always reminding me of how ugly I was. How pathetic. How nobody could love a disobedient girl like me. He would come into my room at night, smashing everything with a baseball bat, telling me how unworthy I'm.

Trusting him with the secrets she’d kept and the dark pain in her eyes. “We were in and out of foster homes. We aren’t related by blood. You know that. But we’d bonded and social services tried to place us together when possible. It wasn’t always. But they knew if we went together that we were less likely to cause trouble and so when they could they accommodated our need to be together. We were the only family each other had.”

But my eventual foster mother cried hysterically, clutching me tightly, refusing to let go. Hannah had no choice but to give me up. During those first few months of adoption, I thought I had found a home again. My three foster brothers were kind to me. Their strength made me feel secure. But then, when I was eighteen—their long-lost biological daughter, Kayla, returned. Everything changed. They started seeing me as "a replacement who stole Kayla's place." Kayla happily whispered poisoned words into their ears, twisting the truth. My foster brothers began bullying me at school.

I ended up in the foster system. The first foster home seemed fine at first. They had several other foster children, all girls, and on the surface, everything appeared normal. But as time went on, their true colours began to show. The foster father was a violent drunk, and the foster mother, though less physical, was verbally abusive, berating us daily, drilling fear into us. We were merely bodies filling space in their home, a paycheck to fuel their own lives. But that was not the worst of it.

Waddled up to the door of the Victorian on the bend. Their life seemed perfect. I suppose I was wrong. In any case, the Fosters were inseparable—even when she got older. They would waltz around town laughing; sit at cafes looking like someone ought to be photographing them for a perfume campaign. And it stayed that way for a while, mind you. Until Chloe climbed out from a Taxi—and this I saw through my kitchen window.

Clearing her throat, Charlotte steadied herself before she pressed, “Go on.” With a sigh, Romy set her drink back down again. "Your mother,” her voice broke a little, the same way it always did when talking about Lotte’s Mom. “Janie... she wasn’t just my sister," Romy confessed. "We were foster sisters first… Her father was sent to prison for this and that - he died in there. My mother just couldn’t be bothered to even try to love me… Janie loved me. We were inseparable.” Lotte had already heard plenty of times in her life about how ‘inseparable’ her mother and her Aunt were. When she was younger, it had made her incredibly jealous of the other woman.

“It is what it is.” “Where’s your sister now?” “She married a doctor I think.” “You don’t keep in touch?” I asked. “No.” “I’m sorry,” I whispered. He kissed my temple and gave me another gentle squeeze. “When I was nineteen, my foster sister Annie called me… she’d been in the last place before I aged out and she was in trouble. She was drunk and some guy was smackin’ her around, so I got her out and took her home. What I found out later was that our foster father had been molesting her and child protective services did nothing about it.”

I've even moved states after one family sent me on a long train trip all to get rid of me so they could claim I ran away and then find me for some kind of prize money. The city turns to trees and grass and yes horses and cows, even goats and sheep as we drive for what feels like hours. When we finally stop it's almost dark and the house looks like one of those old ones you see in western movies. "This is Judlyn Family, and they will be your new fosters" the social worker says with a bright fake smile. "Well come on kid it's getting late and suppers getting cold" the man says and takgs my bag from the social worker while I follow the lady inside.