Chapter 1
Dear Diary August 1
I've just received this book, it's a soft, dusty pink and leather covered, a small, heart-shaped gold lock dangles from it, the key is hidden beneath my stack of bras in my drawer. My shrink said it'd be good to start a journal, and so my, well, I don't know what to call her, took me shopping for one. I guess you'd want me to explain. Right now, I'm at my eighth foster home, or is it the ninth? Nobody ever wants to take me in, not that I blame them, I don't even like myself.
The shrink says I have to introduce myself, she told me to do that if I didn't know what to talk about. So I guess I will.
My name is Jessica McKay.
Don't call me that, it's Jessi or Jess.
I'm fourteen years old.
My favourite food none. Eating makes you fat.
I want a horse, but I know I'll never get one, probably not ride on either. A dog would be nice, but I won't get that either.
I like to draw and paint and make stuff.
Enough?
I don't know why I'm still writing, to be honest, the Shrink is right, it's satisfying and feels kind a good.
I guess I could tell you why I'm in the foster system.
It's because of a car crash, mom and dad died. I'm paralyzed from my belly button down or T10, and so I can't run away from nobody. Actually. I'm a paraplegic, which means I can still move a little bit, but not enough to function normally. I can wheel myself fairly fast, but never fast enough to get what I want done. Mom was pregnant when she died, but the baby didn't make it either.
It's my fourth session with the Shrink, do I like it? Not really, I wish she'd stop asking questions about everything, about me, about my life, I'm surprised she hasn't asked what my underwear size is.
I got moved a month ago from foster home number seven or eight, mostly because 'I was causing problems'. You have to get it. I don't like talking to people, they always end up turning what you say into something bad. I don't appreciate fake kindness.
Whatever, Shrink will be happy I wrote,
Jess
