A/N: I just wanted to say thank you to tanya50801, erikahstar13, and Snowalchemist55 for reviewing my story, I would also like to say thanks to the people who added this to their alerts. I'm hoping this chapter gets more than 3 reviews. :D

Chapter 2

To say my first day of school was horrible would be a serious understatement. My first day of school was absolutely horrendous. In the morning none of my classes had any of my friends and what made it all the more horrible was the fact that they ALL had Conner in them.

I mean what 18 year old senior still takes junior classes.

I had a weird feeling that he was in those classes because of me but I really didn't want to think about it. The idea alone made me sick to my stomach.

Lunch and my afternoon classes were not any better either. First, during lunch, while I was in the middle of talking to my friends I got approached by Conner's on and off again girlfriend. Her name is Sasha Stallone and she is the captain of our Varsity cheerleading team. She has fire red hair with brown eyes and light skin. I guess you can say she's pretty, but I don't think she is.

Anyway, She decides to come up to me and start on this whole Conner is her man and she'll be damned if a homeless bitch like me will take him away from her. Of course I, being the fighter and troublemaker that I am, got up and in her face. I responded with my usual sarcastic remark before pushing her with my shoulder and walking out the lunchroom. That gesture alone set a series of 'Oh's through out the cafeteria. I on the other hand didn't care.

Then if that wasn't annoying, in my 6th period Chemistry class, the teacher had the audacity to pair me up with a girl that I absolutely despise. This automatically caused a big argument from me. But my outburst did nothing but send me to the dean.

Detention and it's only the first day. I do believe I just broke a record.

After that, my gym teacher took it upon himself to brush his hand against my ass while I was in the middle of a conversation with Amaris. She noticed this just as I did but didn't say anything.

You're probably asking yourself, why didn't I report him? And my answer is really simple, Payback is a bitch.

Finally, my day was over with and I was now able to go home and relax.

Today like most days I walked home from school alone. Amaris normally gets a ride home from Aiden after school, but I preferred to use this time to reflect on the things going on in my life.

As soon as I exited the school I pulled out my I-pod and turned it on to my current favorite song. With a heavy and loud sigh I stuffed my hands into my blazer and started on my voyage home.

Growing up I never had it easy. With being passed around from foster family to foster family, you could see why.

Each family I was sent to came with a brand new problem. If it wasn't because of my looks it was of because the clothes I wore. If it wasn't because of my height it was because of my weight.

Kevin knew of all of this and promised me that the new family would be so much better than the last. And after 5 more families I stopped believing in Kevin's promises.

At the age of 15, months before I came to Kevin's house, I was attacked by my foster father. I was gagged and bound to a bed in his basement where he repeatedly beat and raped me for months on in.

No one in that house knew what was going on, and frankly no one cared. What mattered to them the most was the check they were receiving each month for taking care of me. It did not matter if I was in the house with them or not. They only cared about that measly little 350 dollars.

His abuse continued well on for 2 months before I was found. My body was battered and bruised with cuts every where you looked. And if it was not for my 10 year old foster sister, Mary-Ann sneaking into the basement I would probably be dead right now.

I owe my life to that little blonde haired blue eyed girl and if she was alive right now I would be sure to constantly remind her.

After releasing me and helping me escape I begged her to come with me, but due to the fact her 3 year old brother was still in the house, she wanted to stay and protect him. Later that night, she was beat to death. I tried everything in my power to help her. I even informed the police about what was going to happen to her, but by the time they got there it was too late. She was already gone.

Everyday, I'm reminded of what that little girl sacrificed for me, and I'm forever thankful for it.

In return for her saving me I made sure her 3 year old younger brother was placed with a caring and loving family.

Coming to think of it, he'll be turning 5 soon and I promised when I saw him last week that I would come to the party. And I will.

The family I found for him is absolutely perfect; I had Kevin do a deep and thorough background check on the family before Oliver was sent to them. They came up clean and they even agreed to me checking in on him every couple days.

After what Mary-Ann did for me, this is the least I could do.

Snapping out of my thoughts I realized I finally made it home.

"I've never been so happy to see this place." I mutter as I began to wipe the tears away from my eyes that I didn't realize fell until now.

I walked quickly into the house and shut the door behind me softly. I knew no one was home but out of habit I still shut the door quietly.

I sighed heavily as I made my way up the steps and to my room. I decided I was going to wait until later to do my homework since right now my mind is too preoccupied.

Sitting on my bed I tried to think of something to do while taking in my surroundings.

My room was far from any typical girls' room. For the most part it was extremely neat; my closet was filled with clothes and shoes courtesy of Margaret, I had sky blue walls with black shades on the windows and a black canopy full size bed. Near my window was my desk that consisted of my laptop, essays, my printer, and a picture of me with Mary-Ann.

After staring at my desk for quiet sometime I decided to write a poem. Writing poetry was something I began to do when I was younger, as a way to express my pain. Through the years I've gotten better but never had the heart to show my work to anyone but myself.

Getting off my bed I made my way over to my desk and sat down. I reached for the shade and raised it up as I began looking out at the view in front of me.

The view from my room window was the one of Miami Beach. At night this scenery is the most beautiful one in the world and I often found myself falling asleep while looking at ocean, stars and the moon.

Snapping myself away from the view I grabbed my poetry book and opened it to a fresh clean page. Finally after a minute of looking at the blank lines I begin to write, not stopping until I completed my task. And just like that, a half an hour later I'm done. A new poem completed, signed and dated.

Closing my eyes for a moment I reopen them and look at my newly finished poem. Quiet confident as to how it came out; I sigh before reading it to myself out loud.

"Sometimes when I'm alone
I cry because I'm on my own
All the tears I cry are bitter and warm
They flow with life, and take no form
Ah the world moves fast
and it would rather pass you on by
than to stop and see what makes you cry
It's painful, so sad, sometimes I cry
But no one really cares..
to ask why, why, why
Well I cry because my heart is torn
I find it hard to carry on
And if I had an ear to confide in
I would cry amongst my treasured friends
but who do you know that stops that long
to help another carry on
Ah the world moves fast
and it would rather pass you on by
than to stop and see what makes you cry
It's painful, so sad, sometimes I cry
And no one really cares.."

Ah, the beauty of poems, able to say what your afraid to speak. How I envy my notebook so much sometimes.

I close my book quietly as I wipe a tear from my eye and begin to stand up.

"I care Naliyah." A deep voice said ever so softly, catching me by surprise as I turned to see who it was. I looked at the person leaning against my doorway before sighing a little.

"You aren't supposed to be here." I whisper trying to stop my voice from cracking.

"But I am, and I'm here to help you." He said before taking a few strides and pulling me into his masculine chest.

I tried so hard to push him off, but to no avail, so instead of continuing to fight I begin to cry.

A/N: the poem used in this chapter is called Sometimes I cry and they are by rapper Tupac. Plz review I live for them...