Runways - Skephalo

Another Foster Home

TW wounds

Zak POV

I sigh, as soon as I stepped out of the police car. A police car?!? I'm not dangerous!
I was getting a new foster home. Another one. I had 4 other foster homes, but for some dumb reason they decided to give me away because I was 'too wild'. I hardly even talked to my foster parents!
The foster society were giving me to some old couple. Their house was old, and the paint on the corners were peeling. They also had some barn, all the way out by the field.

Great. I thought

A lady came out of the small wooden door, and greeted us. The cops and the foster society worker talked to her.
I began to walk around the house a little, checking things out. I didn't knows where the woman's husband was.

I went back to the police car, and leaned against it until it make a beeping noise. I smirked at the police man and he gave me a death stare while he stopped the car from beeping.
The society foster worker got my bag out of the car and gave it to me.
I scowled as the police car drove away. The lady gestured me inside and introduced herself as Margaret.

"You can call me Mom." She added, and winked.

No way am I ever calling her Mom. I barley knew this women! And, she's just my foster parent. She's gonna give me away just like the other people did. And I hoped she never winked again. I hate when people wink.

She took my bag upstairs, where I guessed my room was. I didn't even want to look at my temporary room. I'll just get sick of it.

I went back outside, and looked out in the distance. I remembered the barn. I began my long journey to the barn, to explore.

I was sweating hard by the time I got to the barn. I walked and ran at least 4 miles. 4 miles of nothing but brown, dead, crumply plants.
I pushed open the barn door with the last strength I had. And what I saw was terrifying.
It was a man chopping a horses hoof off??
My mouth dropped open. The horse didn't even seem to notice its hoof was being sliced.

The man looked at me. He had a gray beard, and wild eyes.

"Can I help you?" He asked gruff.

"Stop chopping the horses hoof off!" I yelled

The mare started to look nervous, and the man calmed her down.

"I'm not hurtin' her!" He said back angrily, and picked up another one of her legs.

"Oh." I say, disappointed. I thought I had done something good.

"Who are yeh anyway?" He asked, not bothering to look at me.

"I'm being fostered here." I say.

"My wife was tellin' me 'bout that." He answered

I held out my hand professionally. "Zak." I say my name nice and clearly.
He shook it, but didn't tell me his name.

"Your sweatin' a lot. Takes a cunning person to walk all this way." He says.
I liked the sound of that. Me, cunning. I think proudly.

"The bad part is walkin' back." He says with laughter

My face went blank. I left the barn. Time to begin my next journey.

I swooshed a stick around, and hit the tall dead grass. My head was sweating, my black hair damp. I was about halfway across the field.
Who wants 4 miles of dead plants?

I made it back, and Margaret was hanging landry to dry. I wiped my forehead and went inside.
I went into the room that had my bag, and collapsed onto the bed. The sheets were cold. I snuggled them, listening in case one of the couple decided to sneak up on me.

That's when I heard footsteps clomping upstairs. I shot up, pretending to be interested in looked at the window frame.

"Honey, it's time for supper!" Margaret said cheerfully

"I don't want any." I snapped back, even though I was starving.
Margaret looked hurt for a second, but then accepted it.

"Tell me if you need anything!" She said in that same stupid cheerful voice.

I grumbled at her happiness, and lay back down with the sheets, that were now warm. They still smelled like lavender.

Darryl POV

My father was finally out of the house. I could go to the bathroom and get a bandaid now, because there was a deep cut on my cheek. I didn't want my father to think I'm weak.
Yes, I did get the cut from him. My dad is a total drunkard. I was just watering the garden, because I'm the one that usually cleans everything, and makes dinner.

I ran to the bathroom as quickly as my dads rusty trunk clanked away. I ripped open a bandaid packet, and pressed it onto my cheek. I winced but then relaxed.

My dad didn't come back until 9:12, which is a usual time for him. He's been going to some girl's house to "have fun". He did that almost everyday. There was only one day that he didn't go, which was when the person he was visiting got into a fight with him.

I've been trying to find a way to get money, because we haven't been paying the bills well. My dad doesn't even have a job. I basically live by myself.

"WHAT IS THAT?!" my dad screamed, pointing at my cheek

"A bandaid." I say calmly. Sometimes he just forgets it.

"YOU DON'T NEED NO BANDAID!" he yells, ripping the bandaid off and slapping my face.

I was used to this, but it still hurt. He stomped away to his room, and I didn't see him until the next day.