That morning had been the same for young Abigail Harris. Her foster parents unlocked the closet door, so she could get ready for school. They gave her leftover bread crumbs for her breakfast and a spoon of water. She was stuck wearing an old navy blue t-shirt and ripped jeans, due to aging. Her face was quite pale, and her eyes seemed lifeless as the dark circles under them appeared quite large. She grabbed her old black backpack, that she had kept with her since she was around twelve, and put it on her shoulders, fresh with old notebooks and worn down pencils. As she went to open the door, she was greeted by police officers and social workers.<br/><br/>"Abigail Harris," she social worker spoke to the young, emaciated teenager, "We would like you to come with us, please." The teen didn't say another word as she began to follow the social workers. All the while, the police stormed into the home she as she heard yelling and screaming from other children. She didn't quite understand what was going on, but all she knew is that they were taking her away from that hellhole.<br/><br/>"May I ask where you are taking me?" Abby asked the social workers. One of the social workers turned back to her, giving her a soft smile.<br/><br/>"We're going to take you to the agency," the social worker spoke, "Then, you'll get to meet your new father. Of course, this is after we get your medicine ready for your asthma, and such."<br/><br/>"Okay," Abby replied simply as she followed them towards the agency. The sixteen year old had mixed emotions about all of this. She was glad to be getting away from that home, but worry plagued her mind. What if she was put into a worse home? What if she had to be locked in a closet again? Go days without eating? Forced to drink dirty water? She really didn't want to go through this again. Every foster home she was in seemed to have its own problems. She just wanted a steady life for a change.