Personal Narrative: Childhood Adoption

It was a pain unlike any other. I have never felt this before. A scream builds on my lips, a cruel laugh sounds from the darkness. I bit back the scream, determined not to give him the satisfaction instead my silent scream resonates in my head. The smell hit me before the pain did. I did scream then, oh how I screamed. I screamed until my voice grew hoarse and still I screamed. I cried out until I could no longer until darkness clouded my eyes and I knew no more.
My story begins the same way it ended, with ice and darkness. It seems like a lifetime ago when my mother put me up for adoption. It was in the dead of one of the bleakest winters on record in Russia. She left me on in the darkened doorstep surrounded by ice and snow. I’ve been told it was a miracle that I didn’t catch my death from cold. When I was found in the morning, they were sure I had succumbed to the below
With parents that have seen the inside of a prison cell time and time again fostering children. From domestic abuse to rape, kids from the system have ended up in their hands. The foster system is a difficult place to make friends, because you can’t trust anyone, and people come and go all the time. You might see someone one day and the next they're gone like a distant dream. My own story isn’t any different than theirs. I lived on the streets more then I lived in a foster home. I had a few good homes in the beginning when I was young, and as I grew older the bad ones came. I wasn’t in the system long before my first family adopted me. Only half a year, they fostered me the summer following when I was put into it, a relatively short amount of time compared to some. I lived with them throughout my early years, thinking of them as my family. When I hit the spring of my 9th year I was put back into the system. I was so young that I couldn’t comprehend what had happened and