When my parents died I stayed with a cousin for a short time in Florida until school was out, then I stayed with a family friend until all Hell broke loose. (more on that later)
I was a scared child with a heart so filled with guilt and sadness that I hardly even sounded like a child. I didn't look like a child. I was a child, a child that had a story. And this story she wanted to share but who would listen? Who cared? Who would save her?