"Get OFF me!" I shouted, or wanted to shout anyway, wrenching my arm away from the cold eyed carer.
She was trying to get me to calm down, but how can you be calm when you've just been rejected by another family? I lost count of how many times I haven't been adopted.
I hate my parents sometimes, for abandoning me here. I can remember it vaguely, enough to know that they preferred their newborn baby boy to a dumb five year old.
And I don't mean dumb as in stupid. I can't speak. In my whole fourteen years of life I have never uttered a single word. Oh, I've tried, but it's impossible.
I run down the corridor, my tattered converse pounding on the wooden floor. I know where I'm going, the attic. It's a good place to hide from adults.
I climb the ladder, only half wondering why it's down already, is someone else up there? I push open the trapdoor and stick my head through. My jaw drops, the attic has disappeared.
Or at least the inside has.