The social worker placed her hand on my shoulder to guide me to the car. I tensed. She sensed that so asked,

“Are you okay?” I didn’t answer, just nodded my head. She smiled at me and got me in the car. I looked at the house. The house I was finally leaving. The house of horrors. The house of nightmares. The house I would not be at if I could help it. The social worker took me to the foster home. I met the family and they took me in. They cared for me until I left home. But I was never happy. I was always worried whenever they would have alcohol. Always tensed when one of them got too close to me. Always frightened. Never got peace from the memories. Never will get peace from the memories