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Greasy. Disgusting. Greedy.

Grabbing at my oversized shirt while I slept. While I trusted that soulless place to keep me safe.

The ugly memory makes my stomach churn.

My scraped, bloodied hands curl into fists until my nails bite into my palms while rage pours through every vein in my body.

Now I understand the hollow look in the other foster kids’ eyes. The way they flinched whenever an adult reached toward them. The bruises they hid beneath oversized clothes.

Now I understand their silence.

They weren’t difficult.

They weren’t “problem children.”

They’re kids who have learned that the people meant to protect them are often the ones they need protection from.

She stole something from every one of them. Their safety. Their trust. Their childhood.

And tonight? She tried to steal mine too.

But I fought.

I fought like a cornered animal with nothing left to lose.

I clawed at her hands. Kicked until my legs threatened to give out. Sank my teeth into her arm hard enough to taste blood.

I didn’t care about the consequences.

I didn’t care about anything except getting out alive.

I was going to survive.

And I did.

I’d rather die in this blizzard than ever end up back in the foster system.

“I’ll never go back.” I draw in a shaky breath and tip my head toward the night sky. I watch the moon hanging above the city.

Bright, untouchable and so alone.

And I wonder what it would feel like to touch something so beautiful. I wonder whether it would be cold or gentle in a way I’ve forgotten exists since the only person I ever love died.

“Allegra, put your phone away and take your sister’s hand.”

A woman’s voice drifts through the night. It sounds... loving and warm. Nothing like the monsters I’ve spent years fighting.

I begin to walk away but curiosity gets the better of me.

So I follow the voice.

That’s when I see them.

A family of five stands beneath an arch of icy white Christmas lights outside one of the fanciest buildings I’ve ever seen. They look obscenely rich. The kind of rich that doesn’t just wear money... It breathes it. Tailored coats. Polished shoes. Diamond jewelry catching the glow of the lights.

Money. Lots of it.

A small army of security guards linger close enough to remind the rest of the world exactly how untouchable the family truly is.