The Inheritors Of Iron And Ash And The Unmarked Graves Of Blackwood Estate

mockery.

“Thief!”

“Orphan garbage!”

Through the hot blur of tears, I saw it. Nathaniel, pulling out his phone. The little red light was on. He was recording my complete destruction. His lips moved, forming silent words I could read perfectly: You’re. Nothing.

Forty-eight hours later, they let me go. No evidence, they said. But the damage was done. My foster continue reading …