Forever Bonded || A Gallavich Fanfic

Option One or Two

Chloe

It's been a couple of weeks since Chloe got sent to a group home while her foster home situation got investigated. She sighs as she scribbles random doodles in her notebook, still thinking of the firemen who took care of her that awful night. She can feel the group homes' personal therapist's eyes staring at her, clearly wanting to say something but isn't for some reason.

"What?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you staring at me?"

"Well, typically, during a therapy session, there's a lot of talking happening. I'm waiting for you to answer me."

"I don't remember the question."

"What really happened that night, Chloe? Who started the fire? Why? Where did you disappear to? Why did a fireman bring you to CPS?"

"Jesus. That's way more than one question, lady."

"Come on, Chloe. You know my name. We've already had multiple sessions."

"Yeah, against my will."

"Chloe, please. What happened?"

The girl sighs. She hasn't told anyone about her recent home life yet. She doesn't fully know why either, since it's no secret her whole life hasn't been the greatest experience. This time just feels different for her. This time, instead of being scared or angry, she's embarrassed.

"You have my files, right Diane?"

"It's Miss. Phelps to you, and yes, I do."

"Well, Miss. Phelps, you know my life story already. I haven't been very lucky in the foster parent bis. This time isn't any different."

"None of your past homes burst into flames."

"None of my past homes fought with the spouse instead of me."

"So one of your foster parents started the fire?"

"I already told the cops all that. Why do you need to know?"

"Maybe talking about it will help you heal."

"Who says I'm not healed? I feel fine."

"Chloe, you've had a traumatic experience happen to you over and over again. At some point, you need to realize you aren't okay. Put down the protective wall and talk to me."

Chloe sighs once more and glares up at her. She thinks for a moment, then rolls her eyes. If Diane won't stop nagging her now, she won't stop nagging her later.

"My foster mother was bipolar. She hadn't been taking her meds for a long ass time and lied to us all about it. That night, my foster father found out and yelled at her. Like, really loud. He was pissed off to the max. Then my mother got really pissed off. When the first pan got thrown, I left the room. This never happened before. I didn't really know what was happening. This family seemed to actually be normal. I guess I was wrong." Chloe paused, trying to remember every detail for the next part of her story.

"I heard my mother cussing out my father, so I slowly came down the stairs and peeked into the kitchen. My mother said some things about my father. I don't really remember what, but she compared it to the lighter and joint in her hands. All of a sudden, she lit it and threw it at my father. After that, I ran up to my room to call my social worker. Then I realized I couldn't since my phone was dead, so I decided to escape the house, but a huge fire abrupted, so I jumped out the window."

Miss. Phelps wrote Chloe's story in her notebook, adding sidenotes for questions to ask and possible results one situation could cause. "And where'd you go after that?"

"Uh, I convinced a bus driver to let me ride for free. I decided to sleep at the firehouse, and that's where the fireman found me in the morning. He took me to child services, and next thing ya know, I'm here."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Miss. Phelps takes a moment to take in all the information she just got before asking her next question. "Chloe, why was this so hard to tell people? With some of your previous experiences, this isn't half as bad."

"I dunno. I guess I'm just disappointed?"

"How so?"

"I thought they were going to adopt me. I thought that was finally going to be my home. I thought they were normal, but I guess you can't get normal on the Southside, huh?"

Miss. Phelps sighs, furrowing her brows. She really does feel bad for this kid. No one deserves the life she got, especially not a child. "I noticed you called your foster parents just mother and father. Is that what they were to you? Did that make it harder for you to talk about this?"

Chloe sat back in her chair. She let that question sink in. She really did think they were her parents. She loved them as such. "Well, I was with them for a little over a year. They never beat me, never sexually assaulted me, never neglected me, never made me do any of their dirty work. They were nice. They loved me. Why wouldn't they be my mother and father?"

"So you've grown emotionally attached?"

"Why do you need all this? How is bringing up my pain supposed to help me? All it does is hurt more. I'm better off doing things my own way." Chloe gets up, ready to leave.

"Hey, we still have fifteen minutes left. Please sit back down. Having you talk through your experience is a healthy way to help you heal faster. Then it's off your chest and you can relax. Bottling up your feelings until one day you burst and do something you regret is not going to help you at all." Chloe rolls her eyes, knowing deep down the therapist is right. Chloe takes a seat.

"Would you like to talk about something new for the last fifteen?"

"Yes."

"You don't like it here, do you?"

"No. Who the fuck would?"

"Language, Chloe. Your social worker and I have been talking. The group home hasn't been working out too well for you, nor has the foster home situation. You're sixteen now, so soon enough, you'll legally have to live on your own. This decision is up to you, but we found a way to arrange for you to move out of the system earlier than usual. You'd live with your social worker for a while until you guys find a place to secure yourself and ensure you'd be financially stable. That's option one. Option two is that we try to convince the big boss to look into foster homes on the Westside. You could have better luck over there than the Southside ones, although it'll be more difficult to find you a home with  your current.. status."

"Woah." Chloe's eyes widen. Both options are good choices. Option one ensures safety. Option two ensures wealth. That is if a westsider would be willing to take her. It's rare for a Southside kid full of trauma to get picked by a westsider. They all mostly want babies.

"I think I want to go with Option one."

"Are you sure? This option may be a little risky."

"I'm sure. I don't feel like getting my hopes up for a family that can't happen again."

"Well, that's another issue we have to work on, but yes, we can get you set up in Mrs. Taylor's home as soon as next Tuesday."

"Today's Thursday?"

"This process will take time."

"Okay, I guess."

"And you're sure about this? There'll be no backing out?"

"Nope, no backing out."

"Not even if a westsider did happen to want you?"

"No. I want to be on my own. Life seems better that way."

"Okay. Just sign this waiver, and I'll get started on this whole thing."

The two ladies share a smile, and Chloe signs her signature. It's set in motion now. Chloe takes a breath of relief, thanks her therapist for the help, and walks over to her shared bedroom with a soft smile. "Living on my own doesn't sound too bad?" She whispers to herself before entering the room. She lays in her bed, already dreaming of tomorrow.

1341 words this chapter.