Rebellious foster daughter
Rebellious foster daughter Chapter 1
I was scrolling through my feed when a local post caught my eye.
"I’m 18 and pregnant. What do I do?"
The girl asking for help was the same age as my daughter. My throat tightened with a sudden ache for this stranger.
A week later, I would discover the post had been written by my own daughter.
It couldn’t be.
My sweet, obedient girl?
****
The comments were a mess.
*"You’re only 18. What were you thinking?"*
Someone fired back beneath it.
*"She’s a teenager! You have no idea what her home life is like. Maybe her parents are never around. Or maybe she has a brother who gets all the attention. Have some empathy!"*
*"Honey, listen to this mom. Tell your parents. Let them take you to a clinic. It’s the best thing."*
The original poster argued: *"You don’t understand. We’re in love."*
I checked her location. Huh. Same city as me.
Her profile was empty except for that one desperate post.
Thinking of my own girl, my heart went out to her. I sent a private message.
*"Hi. I’m just a concerned stranger. I need to tell you, if he’s okay with this situation, he doesn’t love you. You’re 18. He can’t marry you, and he clearly doesn’t want responsibility. Please, go to a clinic."*
Part of me wondered if it was just clickbait, but I couldn’t risk ignoring a girl who might be lost.
No reply. The message vanished into the void.
"Mom?" My daughter’s raspy voice came from her room. "I have the worst craving for those spicy buffalo wings from the place downstairs. Can we go? Now?"
Instantly, that post flashed in my mind.
The wing place was famous for their nuclear-level heat. Emily had always hated spicy food.
A silly, superstitious saying popped into my head: *craving spicy means a girl.*
I shook it off. I was being paranoid.
Emily was the golden child. Her room was papered with honor roll certificates. Sure, her grades had dipped slightly this semester, but she’d still ranked third in her class for finals.
The craving was probably just stress. A need for something intense.
Telling myself this, I took her downstairs.
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