Finding Home

Kaycee used to have a home. She called it that for six years. When suddenly, she gets thrown into a hostile foster home. By the time she makes it out of there, she doesn't know what home is anymore. Will she ever be able to call a place 'home' again?


2. Streets of New York

I was walking the streets of New York thinking about what I'd do next when I bumped into something, or rather 'someone'.

"Dammit, could you watch where you're going?" He yelled spilling his coffee all over.

"Gees, I'm sorry, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down, you ruined my shirt!" He was still rubbing at it with a napkin.

"Then I'll buy you a new one, how much was it?" 20 bucks and I'd be good.


I choked, "Shit, no, I'm sorry, I can't help you." I said and started to walk away.

He grabbed my arm.

"Then let me take you out to dinner," I looked at him.

"You're kidding, right?" I laughed.

"Why would I be kidding?"

"So, you're saying that you want me to make up for ruining your shirt by having me make you spend money on me?"

It took him a second to think about my confusing question.

"Yes," was all he said.

"That's crazy."

"What's crazy is turning down such a handsome fellow as myself," he cracked a smile.

"No, what's crazy is how vain you are," and I couldn't help but smiling also.

"I think you have me mistaken. Zayn is the vain one," he stated and grabbed my hand. I froze at first trying to decide what to do, but then I thought 'what the hell.'

He noticed my hesitation but didn't mention it. We started walking through the crowds of people.

"Are you serious? You have a friend named Zayn?" I asked.

"Yes, why do you find that surprising?"

"I don't know, it's just not a very popular name, I guess." I shrugged.

"Yes it is," I looked at him, he was smiling but looking straight ahead.

I hadn't noticed his dimples before, but damn were those sexy. And those curls. Those were some nice curls, I just wanted to tangle my fingers-

"You're staring," He was looking at me now. When did he start looking at me?

I looked down trying to hide my blush.

"You're cute when you blush,"

I gasped, "What? I'm not blushing, it's the wind." I found the words without wasting too much time.

He looked around as if to find this "wind". Wow, Kaycee. Wind? Really? It's about as windy as the Milky Way out here. I mentally face-palmed myself. Gosh, I'm so stupid sometimes.

Suddenly there was a jerk at my hand, he was pulling me to the side.

I looked up and saw that we were going into a store. A clothing store.

"Woah, no way. I don't have any money." I stopped in the doorway. He turned to look at me.

"What am I, chopped liver?"

"No, absolutely not. You are not buying me any clothes. Or anything for that matter."
We stared at each other for a good minute until he finally broke. His green eyes breaking away from my hazel ones.

"Fine," he said with an exasperated breath.

"Well, I just don't need anybody buying me anything. I can do this on my own."

"And what exactly is "this''? He asked leading us back outside.

"Nothing," I muttered suddenly aware that I almost gave too much away.

"Let me walk you home," he said.

I just sighed.

"I'll call you," he reached into his pocket - for what I assumed - to grab his phone.

"You can't,"

He looked at me with a look of question and annoyance.

"I don't have a phone, or a house. I'm on my own, I'm homeless. I'm 17 and I'm homeless. I just ran away." I don't know why, but it just came rushing out. I felt like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, I had to tell somebody, to get it out.

"Please don't tell anybody, I don't want them to find out," I continued.

He just looked at me with his eyebrows raised in surprise, "You should probably go home, I'm sure they are wor-"

"No," I cut him off, "they are not worried about me. They never did."

"Don't say that, they're your parents,"

"I don't have any parents," I fought back the tears, this was the first time I ever talked about this with anybody, "My father is dead and my mother left me when I was six. So no, those people are not my parents."

"Let's go," He tugged on my hand.

"No! I'm not going back there!" I ripped my hand out of his, a few tears falling.

He just looked at me, and I couldn't hold his gaze. I bit my lip and looked down, suddenly the dam broke. All my tears came pouring out. The sad tears I felt when my father died, the hurt tears from being left by my own mother, the bitter tears of that stupid foster home, and finally the lonely tears of being on my own with nobody to love.

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