The Werelion's Kitty

Oakland, California

Sandy’s P.O.V.

I look at my daughter in my arms, and I can’t stop crying. I know this is the right decision, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I kiss her forehead and close my eyes, inhaling her newborn scent.

I was only fourteen when that bastard raped me, and eight weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. I debated having an abortion, but each time I went to the clinic, I couldn’t go in. So, I decided to put my little girl up for adoption.

I’m fifteen now, but I still live on the streets, and that’s no place for a child. I was thrown out of my mom’s house when I was twelve because her boyfriend tried to touch me, and I’ve been on the streets ever since. There are so many other teenagers in situations similar to mine that I think it has numbed people from caring anymore.

Kittana. That’s what I named my daughter, but I doubt her adoptive parents will keep the name. I saw that name in a book I read when I was pregnant. My hair is auburn, and it looks like her hair is going to be the same color. She may never know who I am, but at least she’ll always have a part of me with her.

“I love you Kittana. I wouldn’t give you up if I had any other choice. I was told the people who are adopting you have been wanting a baby to love for a long time. They’re going to love you so much that you’ll never want for anything. You won’t be abused like I was or thrown away. I only want the best for you. Hopefully, one day, I will see you again.” I look up when the nurse comes in, and I cry harder as I hug Kittana tight.

“The adoptive parents are here.” She smiles but doesn’t come toward us until I nod.

“I love you, my sweet, beautiful angel.” I kiss her cheek, and the nurse takes her out of my arms. I lie down and sob as I watch her leave with my daughter. I will see her again one day. Holding on to that is what will keep me going. I will see you again, Kittana.

Sixteen Years Later

Kitty’s P.O.V.

I grab my backpack and look out the bedroom door. It’s time to get the hell out of this house. I put my long, auburn hair into a braid and stuff as many clothes as possible into my backpack. My foster dad made it clear that he thinks now that I’m sixteen, he’s free to do what he wants with me. If my foster mom hadn’t yelled for him, he’d have raped me. I have to leave before he comes back.

Once my bag is zipped, I peek out the door and don’t see anyone. I leave my bedroom and head for the front door. When my hand touches the door knob, I hear Ronnie going to my bedroom. I open the door and run outside. As I run down the street, he yells from the porch.

“Get back here, or I’m going to make it even worse.” I don’t look back as I run down an alley and then onto the main street. I keep ducking in and out of alleys and streets until I come to a small market. I stop and look around. Ronnie is nowhere in sight. I go inside and up to the counter.

“Do you have a phone I can use?” I ask the young man. He looks me over and hands me a cordless phone. I take it and begin walking around the market as I call Cindy, my case worker.

“Hello?”

“Cindy, it’s Kitty. Ronnie tried to touch me. He said now that I’m sixteen, he can do whatever he wants to me. I can’t go back there.” I look at the man behind the counter, and he’s busy talking to another customer, so I stick a few candy bars into my bag.

“Where are you?” I tell her the name of the market.

“Okay, I’ll be right there, and I’m sending the police to their house. I’m sorry, Kitty.” She disconnects, and I head back to the counter to give the man the phone back.

“Thanks,” I say as I walk outside to sit on a bench. Once again, I feel completely alone. My birth parents didn’t want me, so they put me up for adoption. Then, when I was four, my adoptive parents got a divorce, and neither of them wanted me, so I was placed into foster care. I have been in and out of more houses than I can count. Some of the foster parents were good, and others were just trying to get money, so they neglected me. The worst were the ones who outright abused me. I have been hit and kicked for as long as I can remember. One woman liked to hit me with an extension cord or a bar of soap in a pillowcase. Another preferred to use a belt that had little metal spikes on it or burn me with cigarettes. My body has scars just about everywhere, but most are covered with my clothes. Cindy pulls up a few minutes later and I get into her car.

“Thanks,” I say as I look out the window. I have no tears left to cry. What’s the point. No one has ever wanted me for anything other than to hurt me. Will it ever change?

“You know you’re going to have to stay in the group home until I can find somewhere else for you to go.” I turn to look at her.

“Can I just stay at the group home? I don’t want to go to another house.” Cindy sighs.

“The group home is supposed to be temporary, but I’ll see what I can do.” We ride the rest of the way in silence. I give Cindy a statement about what happened and then someone shows me to my bed. The group home has six girls per room, and we sleep in bunk beds. It’s not the best, but it’s better than never knowing when I’m going to get hurt or have to fight off a pervert. I’ve been lucky that each time a man or a foster brother tried to rape me, I was able to get away. Everyone stripped me of everything else, but that was one thing I was able to keep intact.

I take a deep breath as I sit on my bunk and look out the window. Today’s my sixteenth birthday. In two years, I’ll be able to get out of here and live my life without anyone telling me what to do. I don’t know what I’m going to do when that day comes, but I want to do something great. The whole world is out there for me to discover, and I can’t wait.