'Messed Up' sbi adoption au

Part 1.

_Tommy's POV_

I woke up with a yell, sweating and panting after the nightmare that had just occurred.  

I realized how my clothes stuck to me, as sweat dripped from my forehead.

I got up going over to the bathroom.

Today's gonna be difficult, I thought to myself looking at the mirror in front of me, the bruise from last week still plastered around my eye.

'Thomas come down for breakfast!' Came a yell from outside the door.

I knew I had to go downstairs either way, no point in fighting it.

The boy who had previously shared this room with me managed to get adopted out to some snobby rich family meaning I've had some peace and quiet around here for a while.

after a while I dragged myself down stairs and sat at the table with my favorite red and white hoodie on, it was one of the only things i had in this place and it was a treasure to me.

'Thomas.' I winced slightly at the tone turning abruptly.

'you have a family that were looking to adopt a young teenager so we put you forward with 2 other boys.'

I took my eyes down to the floor nodding.

'It's at 10:40 don't be late' she said blankly walking out of the room.

This was just great, I've ended up in 7 foster homes and had at-least 50 meetings with families, I already knew how it worked.
I walk in and sit down not listening to them, they think I'm weird or rude, they say no, I get to go back to my room to wish my life away.

Why would this day be different?

_later that day_

It was 10:36 and I was sat nervously playing with the loose string at the end of my hoodie.

I had been given tips by some therapist like woman my second Foster Family took me to when I was about 11, it was annoying and a waste of time, all she kept saying was;
'Just talk more.'
'let your anger out in a more safe and constructive way,'
'just take your mind of things.' that's when they realized I was a lost cause and finally got rid of me.

At the children's home you're not aloud much, only necessities meaning basically clothes toothbrush combs.. anything that's essential to get kids to look nice enough to be presentable, like we are some sort of broken art dressed up and put on display for adults to admire and judge.

It's not ideal.

however when I came here I was allowed to keep one extra thing, my red and black bracelets, they thought it was for the best.

'it might scare the other kids!' was there excuse as to why I should keep my previous scars covered with the jewelry or hoodies.

You can probably tell this place isn't the nicest, I haven't said much whilst being here, I used to, but it's not like there's much of a point, I get yelled at when I speak so i just don't anymore.

All my bracelets made me was an easy target to be bullied as I had something they wanted.

I believe most of the people here are scared of me at this point, most of them only know me as the kid that smashed a boys head of the fence or that has been stuck here longer then anyone else.