Foster Kids Share Their Orphanage Horror Stories

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Foster care is arguably one of the most broken systems in our country. Oftentimes, foster kids end up in homes that neglect their basic needs, deny them love, and reject their humanity. Many of these children have been silenced about the traumas they’ve suffered at the hands of neglectful caseworkers and horrible foster parents. However, some have been able to find the courage to open up about the worst of what they endured.

Some of their stories are almost unbelievably cruel, but they aren’t fictional. Their tales give us a true glimpse into the horrors of the foster care system. Thankfully, these children survived the awful scenarios they were put in and were brave enough to speak up about the some of the things that have stuck with them to this day. These former foster kids came to us to boldly share the stories of their worst moments in foster care.

#1 This Is Nothing Short Of Inhumane

I wasn’t allowed to shower. Only once every couple of weeks. I had to go to other peoples’ houses and the schools to wash. I had to walk on the freeway to school and it rained a lot in the town so my shoes smelt bad and my toes kinda pushed together where the shoes got smaller. Then my toenails got infected and they still are. I got called ugly and dumb. Oh, and the best part: The system told me to suck it up because I could get worse people.

CUBerry1

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#2 As If School Isn’t Already Hard Enough

I almost failed my classes in high school because 10 teen girls in a three-bedroom house with two staff members and one van meant getting home from everybody’s appointments and grocery shopping and stuff at 8 p.m. Nobody was allowed to be in their rooms until bedtime, so no homework got done until 10 p.m. under my sheets with a flashlight. I only ever got half my work done and I started getting into trouble for falling asleep in class.

Sarcasma19

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#3 How Can People Be So Cruel?

I remember one home that my sister and I were placed in (didn’t last more than a week) where the family loved flaunting basic necessities and acts of fun in front of us. For example, they made my sister and me sit on the grass and watch their bratty kids jump on the new trampoline they bought (I assume with the money they got from us). That family also secretly didn’t send me to school at six years old. I was kept in a tiny closet with a bare cot, no light, and given a PB&J sandwich once a day. My sister accidentally got gum in her hair, and they completely cut off all her hair. For Christmas, another family made us watch their kids get awesome presents while my sister and I got their secondhand clothes as gifts. Another family knew my sister and I were lactose intolerant and purposefully made us drink glasses of milk. We threw up, of course. I have endless stories, but these are just a few.

laurenh922

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#4 These Punishments Are Insane

I was in multiple homes from what I can remember. I was so young, but some memories will never leave. One of the first homes was the worst one. If I didn’t eat my food, I had to stay the night at the kitchen table. One time I threw up and I got thrown into a room for a full day and wasn’t allowed out. I remember crying under the door saying I was sorry. That same house had six to seven kids in it. I shared a room with four other children. From what I remember though, the children were very nice. The foster parents were terrible.

PoopFlavoredGum

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#5 Well, This Mix Certainly Didn’t Work

Florida ex-foster care child here, so strap in boys and girls.

There exists a company in central Florida known as the Arnette house, which has a large compound in Ocala. Due to the lack of available foster homes and jails for kids, some genius decided it would be a great idea to house criminal children and foster children together because they’re all problem kids, right?

You got in by either being taken into foster care and placed there, or you broke the law so many times that a Florida judge made you a resident at Arnette for rehabilitation. Or both.

While I was stuck there, I saw all sorts of stuff. Staff members were either great or horrible, never in between. Once a fight broke out when one of the criminal girls attacked my foster friend, and the staff just sat back for a couple minutes to watch before intervening. I ended up jumping in between them and throwing my arms out in a T-shaped pose until staff eventually pulled the criminal girl away. I got the nickname Jesus. My long hair at the time probably had something to do with it.

KishinB

#6 This Is So Alienating

I just remember lots of fake smiles from them at first. I remember crying almost every day and being in trouble for it. The mother didn’t let the “foster kids” into our room until it was bedtime. So when I cried, I had to do it in the living room in front of everyone. I tried to cry in the bathroom at first, but with seven people in the house, I couldn’t stay there very long. If the mother walked by and heard me crying, or if her kids heard me and told on me, then she’d knock on the door and tell me to come out to the living room. It’s very dehumanizing to sit and cry in front of people nearly every day.

They’d make jokes or just comments about how I was a moody and mopey person. The mother and daughter had very high-school-mean-girl personalities. When one of the other foster girls was out of the room or away on a home visit, they would talk garbage about her and try to get us to chime in. We couldn’t bond or find comfort in each other because they were always driving wedges between us. The biological family called us “the foster kids”. The daughters also called us slaves “jokingly”. There was a divide in the house: us and them. We were treated inferior in every way.

themiddleofthenite

#7 It’s Amazing They Survived

I woke up to my 300-pound foster brother sitting on top of me and choking me half to death.

Girls would constantly steal anything nice I got. This included shower stuff and soaps. A laptop (it was a school laptop) and so many clothes.

There was a lot of fist fighting. I didn’t get enough food because people would take it. I caught pneumonia twice in one month because my foster parents decided a new sports car was more important than heaters or thick winter coats.

Unknown

#8 That Girl Was Just Plain Evil

We went without groceries for three weeks because of employee embezzlement, so I only ate free lunch from school and nothing on weekends. My bus arrived too late to get school breakfast. We also didn’t have hygiene products during this time so I stank and wore dirty clothes. My Home Ec teacher did a fundraiser and sold cupcakes during class, and a girl at my table bought three. I was drooling and watching her like a dog watches Thanksgiving dinner. She ate one, then looked me in the eye and said she was too full to eat the others. She spat on the two leftover cupcakes and then threw them away. I put my head down and cried. After class, I told the teacher I was hungry and the group home had no food. She asked me what I wanted her to do, so I just said I didn’t know and left for my next class. She never spoke about it again or even checked in to see if I had gotten access to food. Later that week, Cupcake Girl told me I was nasty and stank so bad no one could stand me. I dropped out of school a week later.

FosterThrowaway98

#9 The Double-Standard Is Crazy

My worst experience, if I had to name one, was when a four-year-old that was a foster sibling of mine dragged me by my hair across the living room, giving me carpet burn and a bald spot that lasted a few years. I was eight and frail, having starved within this home and begged for more portions from school to even stay awake. This girl, who didn’t know better, dragged me about 14 feet and none of her older siblings or my foster mom did anything about it. Those burns that ran through my back stayed there for years. It was so red and inflamed that I had to sneak medicine when they were gone or asleep because I was never taken to a doctor. I’d hide my injuries just so I didn’t bring attention to the scalding pain that lasted for days on end.

I couldn’t defend myself from that incident despite being older because if I even touched my foster parents’ “little princess” I’d be refused food and sleep. I’d have to write pages of “I won’t touch ***** again” until my hand was numb. Over and over again. Then, I would be allowed to sleep.

monigurrl321

#10 What A Bizarre Accusation

One day I got in a fight with my sister and my parents called the police on me. They told me to pack a bag and that they were taking me to the county’s emergency foster care house. It was a woman who took in kids who needed to go somewhere on short notice. There were only a few other kids there, one whom I actually knew from school so that was kind of nice.

The woman wasn’t always too nice to me though. She’d had hundreds of kids go through there so I wasn’t anything special or different, just another kid to her. Everything felt very impersonal and distant.

One night, I think my first or second night being there, she woke me up at 1 a.m. to scream at me and accuse me of using her toothbrush. I swore up and down that I didn’t, but she insisted that I did and kept going on about how disgusting I was. That was probably the worst I was treated during this whole period.

pikachuuuuu

#11 Man, A Whole Family Of Bad Eggs

The food was locked up and we were not allowed to access it freely. There were 11 people in a four-bedroom house. We were treated as servants and bullied by the biological kids. My foster dad was sexually inappropriate with me and made advances. The foster mom was mean and called me stupid a lot. Everything of mine was stolen. I was forced to do manual labor for them and hardly had time to do homework. It was awful.

enzasDreams

#12 “Dehumanizing” Doesn’t Cover It

For an entire year, I wasn’t allowed to sit on the couch. I had to sit on the floor in front of the couch and stare at the wall. They frequently reminded me that the dogs were better than me, and to this day, the stuff that’s happened to me haunts me at night.

usbfridge

#13 How Could You Do That To A Kid?

I was locked in a pantry for a day or so when I (six years old) misbehaved. I was threatened often and not fed properly. I was rarely allowed to shower. I had very long pretty hair that I enjoyed, and I got it chopped off as a punishment. The scariest part was having a younger sibling when threats to harm her were the norm.

Lonely_Wallaby

#14 And Adulthood Is Already Difficult…

Aging out is the hardest. You have no one to turn to; no one to tell you how to be an adult. I remember being 18 and crying my eyes out because I thought I could be arrested for not being able to pay my electric bill or just bills in general. You also trust abusive/toxic people very easily. Where do you go for holidays? I have an awesome best friend whose mom begs me to come for holidays, but I usually choose to work because it just feels weird. Every time you accomplish something, no one is there to cheer you on. Now in my 30s, I’ve made a handful of awesome friends that are a huge help, but it took me a while to learn how to have a healthy relationship. Another thing is that a lot of us are introverts due to being ostracized at school and having to live in overcrowded foster homes where we were just a paycheck for a terrible foster parent. You just want quiet, and you are really ok being alone. A lot of us lead nomadic lifestyles because we’ve become so used to the constant shuffling.

IFudgedTheMath

#15 Geez, They’re Not A Puppy

I lived with other members of my family for a few years. I was also in foster care before that, but they didn’t threaten to get rid of me, they just did it one day without any prior warning. This happened a couple of times. Granted, I was misbehaving at the time, but Jesus Christ, it took me years to get over that. One time, in particular, I was 14 or 15, I asked if I could get a nose piercing and she replied, “If you get a nose piercing, we’ll send you back.”

bronzemedal98

#16 Being A Financial Pawn Is Horrid

Getting taken away, rightfully so, from abusive parents only to end up as a means of income for other abusive adults is hard. There are a lot of short stays with unfamiliar, unfit people trying to feed you as little as possible so they can maximize their earnings. There is often a set of fancy, clean clothes that are never to be touched unless a social worker visits. On those days, hygiene is all of a sudden a priority, rehearsed speeches and quizzing are the most attention received to date, and the home is filled with the smell of a slow-cooking stew.

ImAwareOfMyTongue

#17 This Is Not How To “Heal” With Religion

My first foster home when I was six years old was filled with church nuts. I was baptized against my will, and had a nursery rhyme book that was censored (the book described an old woman in a shoe who “whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed”, but “whipped” was crossed out and replaced with “kissed”). I was a pawn for the mother who was netting money to a side piece. I remember sharing a bed with the 60-year-old woman on holiday at a beach somewhere when she had an attack of conscience, suddenly believing she had angered God.

HereSirTakeMyUpvote

#18 There’s No Reason To Be So Cruel

I live in Canada and I don’t know if other places have this, but we something called “respite”. Basically, if the foster parent wants a break, then the foster kid can go to another home for the weekend. I remember being in respite one time when I was living with my aunt and the lady that took me in was absolutely heartless. She made me cry, excluded me from the other kids, and put me to bed way early. I cried myself to sleep. This was all because when she told one kid to go to her car and grab something, apparently I didn’t get the memo that I wasn’t supposed to go and that’s the reason why all that stuff happened.

justforhits

#19 Don’t Even Think About It, Dude

The school I worked at put on a special Christmas party just for our foster kids, privately and confidentially, at a counselor’s big house. One of my teacher friends was taking some of the kids home that evening and one foster dad was standing at the front gate waiting. He stuck his finger in the kid’s gift bag, looked in, and inquired about what they got. My friend told the guy the stuff was for the kid. She has got more guts than me. Sensing some shady energy from the guy, she took the bag back. Before school got out for break she made sure the kid got the stuff that was inside the bag.

BastRelief

#20 Gosh, That Must’ve Been A Tough Battle

My biological mother was autistic (very high-functioning) but also suffered from extreme depression. My aunt took me in and wanted to adopt me (she’s amazing). Child Protective Services in New York City strongly supported her gaining legal custody of me. But my biological mom fought it… for five years. Despite dozens of specialists, caseworkers, and doctors testifying that my biological mom was a danger to me, the state of New York refused to give my aunt full custody. My biological mom eventually surrendered custody when I was seven, after five years of legal battles, because she was pregnant with another child. No, that other child did not turn out okay. The amount of emotional trauma I endured as a child from having to repeatedly testify against my own mother in court still haunts me to this day, but at least I turned out okay.

uncovered-history

#21 Another Way The System Failed Them

A Guardian Ad Litem said in the court that I didn’t want to go home with my mom (I was around 17 years old) after I had just told her in the chambers that I wanted to be with my mom.

Trackgirl123

#22 This Is Super Uncomfortable

In my foster home, I had to bathe with the other foster kids at the same time. As in, sitting in a bathtub with someone else you hardly knew.

Cedricium

#23 How Can Heartless People Foster Children?

There was a whole lot that I try not to remember, but the short end of the stick is my foster parents clearly had no intention of showing me any kind of love.

Becoming their foster child after being passed around the rest of my family and being rejected was really scarring for me. I moved in with this couple freshmen year of high school, I actually ended up staying the whole way through. I only chose to stay because if I left for another foster house, I wouldn’t be able to go to the same school, and while they were few, I made some really good friends I wasn’t willing to give up. So, I decided to put up with the neglect.

Marmilak

#24 Well, That’s Certainly A Jarring Adventure

I discovered foster care when I was four. We were physically abused and starved half-to-death. Shoplifting loaves of bread and packs of bologna from the store eventually struck a chord in somebody’s conscience.

My three siblings and I were finally liberated. Of course, the great state of Kansas put us in different homes. Nothing like being yanked from your awful life and suddenly your siblings are no longer there. Good times.

The first night, a while after I finally fell asleep, I woke up and had to pee. I was too scared to go to the bathroom, so I tried to pee out the window. That was an adventure I would like to forget. Hell, I’m 49, that stuff is not going away….ever.

Raidpackreject

#25 Memories Can Haunt More Than Ghosts

I was only in foster care temporarily when I was three (I’m 17 now). It seriously messed me up in the head and gave me anxiety. My experience isn’t as bad as some peoples’, but I’m glad it wasn’t any longer than it was. The boys I was sleeping with every night scared me by telling me about ghosts and whatnot. The dad didn’t really care for me, and I couldn’t believe that I would never see my parents again.

NightwingJay

#26 Wow, That’s Seriously Heartbreaking

I was painfully aware that the families I was staying with did not take me in for any reason other than money. Abuse and negligence was an everyday occurrence, and I had no idea that abuse wasn’t normal. My adoptive dad has an anecdote from when I was around five years old and came to live with him for the first time: I opened the fridge, and with wide eyes, I said in disbelief, “You have food in here?” So yeah, the whole foster care system is pretty flawed and screwed up. I’m happy I was able to get out.

wretchedb***h

#27 Not All Grandmas Are Warm And Smiley

I remember I was placed with this family who had a huge house and a bunch of extended family members living with them, like the mom’s grandma and grandpa. Plus, they had 3 kids of their own. I’m going to keep this short, but I have vivid memories of the grandmother basically dragging me by one arm on multiple occasions up and down these huge stairs when no one else was home. It got to the point where it felt like my arm was going to fall off. I can’t even remember why; I just remember being terrified of that crazy lady. I remember she also didn’t speak English well but told me she was my mom after two days of knowing her. She forced me to let her bathe me even though I knew how to bathe myself as any normal eight-year-old does. All in all, I don’t remember a ton from that two-month period, maybe because I don’t want to. I do remember thinking if I ever had to go through that again, I would just run away.

YungSkrrrATL

#28 Why Would They Take Them From Her?

I went to live with my Momma (her name) when I was 10 months old. She was so kind and had this aura around her that felt like home. I lived with her and her three children until midway through kindergarten. One afternoon, when we got off the bus and were going inside to change into play clothing, I saw my social worker at the kitchen table. He told me to pack everything up. I was so bewildered, but I did as I was told. It was like a light had been shut off in my Momma. When I came out with all my things packed, the social worker said that Momma’s adoption process had been stalled and he found family members for me to live with. He told me I would be much happier in a white family than with a black family. I was so confused. Momma was all I knew. She told me I would always be family and she would keep fighting to adopt me. I got in my social worker’s car and he drove me to my paternal grandparents’ home. I lived with them for the rest of my childhood, but I spent every Sunday at Momma’s. My grandparents weren’t bad and my foster home wasn’t bad but being pulled out of a loving home, the only home I knew, was terrible.

airwrecka513

#29 They Literally Slept In A Pigsty

After the first few months in the foster home, I was not allowed to take any food to school. Prior to that, my lunchbox was a bread bag.

The school instituted a rule stopping kids from sharing their food because of me.

My bedroom was in a barn outside the house, despite the fact that there were two spare rooms in the house. The barn was cleaned out days after we moved in (we were sleeping on couches in the lounge in the meantime). It was full of insects, spiders, and even a snake. There was a resident fruit bat in the main room of the barn.

I was locked out of the house (on a farm, 20 kilometers from town) during summer for up to 3 days at a time, with no food or anything to drink. All my clothes except what I was currently wearing at any given time were locked in the house.

IowaContact

#30 But…She Is A Baby?

I remember being six and moving from my first ever foster home where I had lived for two years. The lady I moved in with got mad at me and threw me off her lap and onto the floor. She told me that when I was done being a baby, we could talk like adults. She also used to put me into ice-cold showers whenever I acted up or cried. She would lock me in the basement and I wasn’t allowed out of my room during the night, so if I had to go to the bathroom, she made me go in a bucket. There was also three bathrooms in the house, but I was only allowed to use the basement one because she was afraid I would pee on the seat.

sadie224

#31 The Worst Way To Spend Christmas

When I was about six or seven, I shared a room with a baby. It was Christmas Eve, and I tried my best to stay up to watch for Santa, but all I could smell was pee. The smell was so unbelievably strong. I stopped believing in Santa that year.

MrShatnerPants

#32 This Seems Unnecessarily Intense

The fourth foster family I had made me pray every night, say grace, and go to Bible studies. If I was in trouble, I had to write my apologies to God hundreds of times. None of my previous families were religious, so this really freaked me out.

MiddleClassNoClass

#33 I Hope They Went To Juvie

I was taking a nap in my room when one of the other foster kids took scalding hot water and poured it into my ear. I’m deaf in that ear as a result of it.

Shadowpriest

#34 This Sounds Like Cinderella (But Worse)

I was not allowed to go to school. Instead, I had to do all the housework for the parents and their three bratty kids.

CoHeedIsBest

#35 South Korean Care

I was a part of the foster care system in South Korea, and the foster home I lived in was great. Loving foster parents, plenty of attention, and genuine care for my wellbeing. Unfortunately, the rest of Korea was not as kind. I was given up by a single mom, which carries a very negative stigma in Korean society. The bullying from other kids and at school was awful just because of my negative background. I got beat up regularly, kids would ruin my school supplies, teachers would turn a blind eye, other parents wouldn’t even look at me, etc. I think times may have changed since then (it’s been over a decade), but it deterred me from coming back to Korea to visit until recently.

lolephant88

#36 Just Next Door

I was not part of the foster care system, but I live next to a foster home for minorities and mentally disabled kids, I can see everything happening in their backyard from my windows. I once saw a 9-year-old girl making out with a 12-year-old boy. I was shocked. The most horrific part of this story is that the women who took care of these children knew about this, yet they did absolutely nothing to stop them. I’ve tried talking to the social workers there, but they just didn’t take it seriously. I no longer live there, but my parents still do. It is really sad and horrifying.

DisturbedBG

#37 Suspicious… Very Suspicious

I have a little brother who was a foster kid. My dad and his wife are actually nice people and sometimes my little bro would have these sorts of suspicious looks, like ‘what’s the catch?’. He seemed highly suspicious of having new clothes bought especially for him. He had a lot of strange food things for a while – like finding it weird that all the kids in the house would just help themselves to food if they were hungry – even fruit, like ‘woah you’re just going to eat that apple?’. And the first time he got in some kind of trouble he basically said, “that’s that then, see you later, they won’t keep me”. The rest of us were telling him “dude, they’re keeping you”. And he was saying “nope”. Like, ‘it’s time to pack my bags again’ (and then when he figured out, he was staying he was of course back to the ‘what’s the catch?’ face). There are lots of little things that make me sad about where he’s been and other people he’s been with.

throwawaysmetoo

#38 Cookie

In 7th grade, I had a friend named Kyrie, but nobody called her that. Everyone called her Cookie cause that’s what she told everyone her name was. Teachers, kids, anyone.

“Hey Cookie, what’s your real name?”

“That is my real name.”

We only found out her name was Kyrie after we had a sub in science who she didn’t tell in time.

She was a weirdo, but lots of fun to hang out with. She was into anime and came to school cosplaying every once in a while.

About three weeks before the school year ended, she disappeared. Like, nobody knew where she went. I kind of forgot about her for a couple of years, and then I have one of those moments where a random thing hits you out of nowhere. I ask some friends and they tell me all the horror stories about the awful things her family did to her. She disappeared cause child protection services finally found out and yanked her out.

I stumbled across her Instagram on accident a while back.  It turns out, child protection services was even worse for her, she was harassed semi-regularly by other kids. Now she’s living with a sugar daddy who treats her awfully but gives her a place to live.

She’s 16 by the way. I feel that’s important to note.

Lieutenant_Buzzkill

#39 This One Is Not For The Faint Hearted

I was fostered from the ages of 3-12 by the most amazing couple. They looked after myself and my 2 sisters like we were their own. After a horribly neglectful and abusive childhood, they taught us what it was like to be loved, respected and gave us morals. We moved back to bio dad’s when I was 12. At 15 I was kicked out of his house (his wife fostered us too, but the money dried up) I then went into a girl’s home. I’ve so many stories of that place, some terrifying, some downright cruel, some really good memories too. One that sticks out for me though is this:

Girls went in and out of the girls home regularly, all with our own tragic stories but there was this one girl, in particular, I’ll call her Eve. The first time I saw Eve she didn’t speak but had that telltale haunted look most of the girls had. A quick glance at her arms and you could see dozens and dozens of scars running up her forearms, some thin and silvery other deep, angry and purple. You get to learn certain tells of abuse and cut up arms usually meant childhood abuse. Most of us bonded in there, our connection was founded on mutual pain and different issues we had because of our childhoods.

One night I woke around 2 in the morning feeling like something was off. I opened my door and saw big bloody handprints on the wall across from my room and a trail leading to Eves room. Instantly concerned, I ran into her room and what greeted me is what I’d imagine a murder scene would look like. I instantly knew Eve was in harm, so I ran to the staff that worked there to see if she was ok. They told me she left, they couldn’t stop her, they couldn’t leave to find her all they could do was ring the police.

I then went to the other girls’ rooms, told them what happened, and we decided to leave and look after her. Now the home had a lockdown from 10 pm to 6 am. Only staff had the key to the door. I guess they felt a bit hopeless, but they allowed us to leave (there was some disciplinary action taken later against staff and girls for it). We left and went to all our known hangout spots, after an hour or two we found her, still in rough condition with some lads. I begged her to leave and go to the hospital. She refused to go. So, I stayed with her, bandaged up her arms as best I could using my t-shirt, and just mended her for the rest of the night until I finally convinced her to come back to the home. The staff rang her an ambulance and I went upstairs cleaned up as best I could and went to bed.

That’s only one of so many stories I have.

tillytomkins

#40 SmackDown

Getting smacked so hard that I literally pooped my pants out of fear, all because I forgot to chew my food with my mouth shut. I was three years old.

deleted

#41 Even A Few Months Can Do Damage

I was in foster care for around 9 months in 2010 through 2011, but my parents deny me being in it or there being any circumstances that would require foster care. I was taken out of my parent’s home because both of my parents were abusive.

When I was in foster care both me and my little sister were beat up by other foster kids and biological children to the multiple foster parents we stayed under.

My parents were desperately trying to get custody and I was told to lie by both my parents, their relatives, my own sisters, my foster parents, and most of my case workers but I wanted out badly. I was eventually convinced that going against my parents is the worst thing a child can do, so I lied for them.

Now I’m 19 and struggling hard with depression. I can’t form normal relationships, affection scares me, and I can’t remember the last time I was happy. Right now, I’m slowly repairing the damage that was done by just my parents but there is so much more I’m struggling with.

notathrowawayyou

#42 There Are Good People Too

Having to move around a lot I think I ended up on like 7 families. Also, being unsure about everything having an unstable mom didn’t really help either. However, when I started in school my then teacher took me in. I was there for 6 years, I still love her and her husband as were they my own parents and see them as my family. I think people have had it worse than me, but I wanted to leave this comment as a reminder that there are good people out there as well.

toby2474

#43 The List Goes On

Finally, something I have experience with.

1) To watch TV, I had to sit on the dining room floor and couldn’t sit with the family over in the living room and if I crossed the line from the linoleum to the carpet, I’d be locked in my room without dinner.

2) One Christmas, the family’s own son got the exact gifts I asked for. I had to sit there and watch him open them and express his happiness.

3) Another year for Christmas, the family didn’t want me there, so I was sent to a temporary house for the holidays. Really sucked knowing they didn’t want me around and even sadder, the state was fine with it.

4) One family would punish us by having us hold our arms out and would be disciplined with a stick if our arms dropped.

5) I got lice at school and instead of the family spending money on lice remover, they used Lysol drain cleaner on my head. That was the worst feeling ever.

KYKY132

#44 Best Christmas Gift Ever

I went into foster care around 4 years old with my sister who was 5. The first one was horrible, the girl living there was a few years older. She used to force us to do things we didn’t want to and tell us “If you don’t, I’ll have my grandpa shoot you”, at that age, you tend to believe anything is possible.

From there we went to the second foster care. This one was a lot worse. It was a trashy home with a mom, dad, and two brothers. Youngest not too much older and used to threaten he would hurt us.

The third and final foster care was the best one out there. Wonderful family of mom, dad, two sons and daughter (if I remember correctly)? They all were so nice to us, we didn’t stay there long. I remember the foster parents told us they had a surprise for us for Christmas. We thought we were getting kittens, lol. We get a knock on the door and it was my dad and his new girlfriend there to pick us up for good!

justanoldcatlady

#45 Mini Alcatraz

The worst part was probably all the time I spent homeless or the mini Alcatraz I got sent to. A private island in the San Jauns called Secret Harbor Boys’ School. About 30 of the worst kids in the NATION surviving in a youth version of Alcatraz.

I don’t want to go into detail, but it was awful. I saw many “firsts” here. My whole childhood I remember just begging for meal vouchers (good for 5$ at McDonald’s or subway) or a warm bed to sleep in for just a night and being ignored. It was cold and wet 9 months out of the year. Washington state has been sued multiple times for millions of dollars since that time with no signs of things improving. I will say it’s made me who I am today. I am strong and fiercely independent.

joedangl

#46 Cruel Task

My foster parents had an inflatable pool in their backyard, and one day it popped or something randomly. They outed me as the culprit for literally no reason and made me blow up an ENTIRE pool, with a hole in it, using just my mouth for literally 4 or 5 hours in the middle of the 100-degree summer.

MogarTheUnkillable

#47 So Young And Oblivious

My brother and I were put into Foster Care when we were 3 after my mom tried to hurt herself. One of the other kids held my brother’s hand against a burner when it was on. I was small enough that no one messed with me really, but I missed my mom a lot and didn’t understand why I couldn’t go back home with her.

Reson8m8

#48 Lonely In An Orphanage

I became a crown ward within the system at a young age, essentially was that the government was my ‘legal guardian’. Not knowing if I belonged or that anyone ever truly wanted me or loved me messed me up for the longest time, I would go as far as say even today.

It was quite clear that my foster mother hated me the moment I arrived. From hitting me to calling me names; all that fun stuff. Despite getting the courage and reporting it to social workers, I was never believed. I stayed in that home for years, there were many nights that I just felt so lonely; I’d cry myself to sleep. I’ve had mental health issues from all the hang-ups I’ve developed. It’s rough man.

Renegade_August

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