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Moving back with my foster family

After I came back from living with my foster parents, I was a timid and scared girl.

It was a Monday morning and just like my foster sister had said, go to school and you will not have to go back to your dads anymore.

I remember the next day when the police came to my high school. I was called into the office and there was a lot of people and police officers there wanting to talk to me. I do not remember what was said except I was told that when I leave school and get on the bus, do not get off by my father’s house. They said go straight to your foster parents.

I got on that bus, and I was so scared. I was scared my father would be standing by where I would normally get off. I was watching out the window the whole time passing by. Luckily, there was nobody there to make me get off the bus.

So, our school bus went down through our community first and let all the kids off from our town. Then it went over to the town next to us, which we called across the bay, ill communities were separated by water. I was too scared to get off at my foster parents. I was not sure if they had expected me or not. I was scared they would not let me stay there.

I went all the way over to the other community and went straight to the end of the community and got off the bus and walked across the bay to my foster parents’ house. It was freezing cold, but I did not care. I was so scared and felt all alone like I had nobody in the world. when I got across, I walked in the door not knowing what to expect. But my foster mom was there waiting for me.

She was so good to me and made me feel like I was home again.

My father went to jail for a year. A correctional centre where they live too good of a life. I have always felt like I never got justice for what happened to me. Specially after my father was released and allowed to come back to our small community to live. He lived down by the water on my Nans property.

I was always scared to past there after he got out. My Nan closed the curtain on me when she saw me walk by one day after my father got arrested.

After my father was home for awhile, I started going down to his place and cook him dinner and leave before he got home. Eventually I use to visit him quite often, but I was always scared, and I would think, what is people saying seeing me go there. They thought I was nuts. Probably wondering why my foster parents allowed me to go to his house.

My foster Mom let me make my own decisions concerning visiting him or not.

I do not know why I did, I felt obligated because he was my father. Even after all that had happened.

After I moved back with my foster parents, I was so afraid, afraid of everything. I would sit in our rocking chair that looked towards the door, and I would cry every Saturday night and shake scared my father would come for me. I never felt safe after that. I thought for sure he would get me again.

I was so timid and scared that nobody could scare me on purpose. Like coming behind me or jumping out at me. It was not allowed because of the trauma I went through with him.

Turning off lights, pretending there was a bear coming to get me.

I had to cook him something to eat and while he ate, I had to sit there at the table with him and if I started to fall asleep, he would slam his fist on the table and scare me, every Saturday would be the same routine. I would be up till 6 am sometimes and then must get back up to go to church on Sunday morning. I honestly do not know how I survived. I thought this is the life I am supposed to live in.

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