Trigger Warning: Abuse and mentioned suicide

My eyes opened, the sun shone through the window, I was on the couch with a black blanket. "What?" I asked out loud and confused. "What the hell?" I asked out loud again confused.

I heard voices in another room, it sounded like four different voices. I sat up and walked to that room, I peered in and saw people I knew, Sadie and Dave, my foster parents and their two kids, Kate and Alexandria, two girls about a year apart from each other and two years younger than me.

I slowly backed away because they were quietly fighting about if they should kill me. It all came flooding back.

My most recent and abusive foster family, hurting me and their own children, always lying saying that we did the black eyes to ourselves when social services came.

They gave me most of the abuse because they see as a toy but when they hurt their own they only feel little remorse.

I slowly backed away from the room and back to the couch as I had no room. I laid back down and pretended to be asleep. The talking stopped, then footsteps getting closer.

"See she's still asleep we could set the house on fire and say in the rush we forgot her in the house, but we need to block all exits to make sure it ends her not like last time," Sadie told Dave the plan.

"Oh you mean how you took her and our girls and 'accidentally' drove the car into the lake? You almost killed our own!" Dave replied.

"But I've thoroughly planned this out this time," Sadie said.

Dave shook his head, "Okay fine, what do I need to do?" He said giving in to Sadie's plan, not wanting to fight with her any longer.

"Put her in the basement and make sure to move the bookshelf back completely. Even if the door opens inwards she can't push it down," Sadie explained. "It will also have a higher chance of killing her.

"Okay," Was all Dave replied to her, already seeing flaws in her plan. He picked me up gently and whispered in my ear, "I'm so sorry." Not knowing or caring if I was asleep or awake.

"Dave?" I whispered back slightly panicked. "Please don't do this!" I whisper shouted. For some reason having no energy.

It's like he didn't even notice me, a tear rolled down his face. He moved the bookshelf with his back and headed downstairs and threw me onto the concrete floor to stop me from getting up. He ran back up and move the bookshelf back.

I didn't have my phone or a light source but I knew where the stairs where. I tried to get up but that's when I realized I was in agonizing pain. I screamed out and was grim. With every move, I made there was a shooting pain. Trying to stand would be a challenge on its own, let alone walk.

"I can't die now," I cried to myself. I forced myself despite all the pain. It was was a slow and hard process. But I did it, now for my other challenge, the stairs.

This would be worse than trying to stand up. I sighed painfully, and walked over and used the rail to help, but it didn't there was only more pain. I tried my best to gather my will to live and make it out. After what felt like years I finally made it to the top, smoke seeping through. I opened the door since it opened to the basement. I tried my hardest to push the bookcase enough to slip out. Through all the pain I actually did it just barely though it was a tough fit but I did it.

Smoke surrounded me and it looked as if I was in a cloud. I started a coughing fit. I moved my shirt to cover my mouth and nose to help from smoke inhalation. I squinted as if to help me to see through the thick smoke but it didn't help because I fell over a table. But after a few falls and yelps, I finally made it to the sliding door.

It was locked, I realized that after breaking the handle off because I was scared an desperate to get out.

Images flashed, as if no smoke was there and in an attempt I tried harder to get out as if I was fighting for something, or someone, though no one loved me not alive at least. But I tried to find a different exit from memory.

I had no idea where the fire had started or where it had spread so every step was basically a shot in the dark or in think case, smoke.

I had found the front door surprisingly. I tried to open it but it was locked, no from the knob but from the top lock. I felt the door for the top lock. I found it as fast as I could knowing the smoke is slowly killing me.

I got out but when I did no one was there. It was just a street with no houses or people, no cars or anything.

"What the hell I going on?" I asked myself out loud my anxiety increasing.

I walked opposite of where the light was coming from as I think it was 'the light at the end of the tunnel' which, despite all of my abusive families and my suicide attempts, I didn't want to die yet.

I took the darker route which led to me waking up in a bright room, with a coughing fit. "Holy fucking shit!" I gasped out.

I watched a couple of doctors come in, notifying others making the room smaller in space but bigger in people.

Your fourth word was, "Garrett!"