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The Fosters

27 September 24
45

The weight of the inquiry settled like a rock in my gut. Big John. His name alone conjured pictures of harsh power, a force of nature with the ability of squashing anything in its path. The idea of him endangering my family, my mom, my sis, and the at risk foster kids who rely upon me, sent a shiver down my spine. Could I really stand versus him? The odds felt impossible. Saving them would take shrewd, guts, and probably a touch of anxiety I didn’t recognize I had. The alternative, the photo of all of us falling target to his cruelty, was a fate I rejected to approve. I understood inaction was not a choice. My life, my family members’s lives, hung in the equilibrium. The option wasn’t whether to combat, yet just how to make it through the storm with the people I loved still breathing.

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