Orelia Foster never thought that she would escape.
She never thought that one day, someone would come and take her away from the man who's had her most of her life.
Who only cares about the money he can make off of her.
That's how most foster par...
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✦ 𝑅 𝑂 𝐺 𝑈 𝐸 ✦ ɪᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀs - ɪsᴀʙᴇʟ ʟᴀʀᴏsᴀ
I hate how blatantly I show my emotions through my body.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not one for...emotions. I keep them to myself. Even on my face. But my body is another thing.
I think Orelia has noticed every little thing now. She gives me a look when I start twisting my ring around my finger because she knows I'm nervous.
When I start drawing invisible pictures on my thigh, she knows that something's wrong. I don't even know what it means but she does? What the actual Hell.
She somehow knows that when I'm bouncing my leg I'm thinking about something and I can't stop thinking about that thing.
That's exactly what's happening now as we sit in the back of Mr. Frickles or whatever the fuck his name is, class as he over excitingly explains the different textures you can make with paint.
My leg won't stop moving. Up and down and up and down it goes. The light tap of my shoe. I rest my hand on my thigh and can feel each vibration.
I can't stop.
When I glance beside me at Orelia she's not looking at me. She looks pissed. Usually she knows if somethings wrong with me but the thing that's wrong with me is her.
She hasn't talked to me.
Fuck. I bet I sound obsessed with her...
She glares straight ahead, not paying attention to the teacher, arms crossed. I follow her eyeline to the back of Gianna's head where Javier sits next to her, arm around the back of her chair.
I look at Ben who's finally on time to this class and he's glaring at Javier.
Orelia's friend Vara or whatever looks pissed for some reason to.
Why the hell is everyone so fucking mad today? And that's coming from me.
This is the second time Orelia has ignored me and I hate how much it effects me.
I feel sick.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as my leg continues to bounce and I pick at my eyebrow piercing, feeling the metal beneath my finger tip.
I run my tongue over my lip ring. Sometimes I forget that it's there.
"The amount of F's in my name stands for the amount of fucks I give." I look up to see Vara talking to one of those hockey boys.
