May 2nd 2003,

It was like any other day, put my stuff in a trash bag and head to my next foster home. I'd probably should introduce myself. My name is Corey Andrew Riffin. Now back to the story, my social worker a kind woman named Valaire walked me to my next foster home. It was a big home to 5 year old me, the house was white was a grey roof and prestine lawn. Definitely owned by someone who had money. " Now Corey I want you to behave for this man. I don't want to have, to pick you up from the airport again" Valaire said as she left. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A man in his late 40s to early 50s, answers the door. After a split second he introduced himself as John Kramer, I said my usual lines of hello and my name as I stepped inside . The inside of the house gave off a warm family feeling. At the time I arrived that day , I hadn't eaten in about 2 days, because my previous foster home hadn't fed me at all so I snuck out and dug through the garbage for anything to eat , I found nothing. The pain of not eating made me weak and frail . It seems Valaire told John about this before hand because I was led to the kitchen where a large breakfast was waiting for me. It looked amazing , I dropped my bag and sat at the table , eating to my heart's content. Even 15 years later I remember the food down to the last detail, it was 2 buttermilk pancakes, 3 sausages, scrambled eggs and a glass of strawberry milk. For the next four years this would be my life