catsrthebest

My very first memory was in a white room, with people in long coats and computers. I was in a cell, and I knew I had to leave. That night, when everyone left and turned off all the lights, I made my escape. I broke the glass, and ran. They didn’t even know what had happened. The security cameras, as I now have learned, didn’t see me. The escape was very lucky; I didn’t even know the cameras existed! Well, anyway, after I got out of that place, I ran to a foster home, and got adopted by my parents. They asked me if I knew who my normal, or biological parents, as they said it, were when I was 12, but I kept silent. I knew if I told them the truth, I would be sent back to that awful place. And this is where I ended up.