My Life in Foster Care

No, it’s not the story you Expect.
I was not abused in foster care, and there were several group homes run by the same agency, and none of them had a complaint filed in the time I was there.
It was the discipline and the perception of how the houses were run that was the issue.

I reached the age where dating occurred. My home was strict on curfew, and stricter if you got in trouble while out. If you had an issue outside the house, the solution was not to let you outside.
Simple logic if I ever heard it.

I was asked out by a boy in another class, and one that I liked a lot! He picked me up on the corner down the street, the common means of hiding where we came from. We did a basketball game, a movie, and a pizza after. Then he drove me home.
More like homeward.

We stopped, and he wanted a kiss, or to kiss. Not wanting to be a little girl, we made out a bit.
I was enjoying that, until he wanted me to perform oral sex.
Perform, like a trained dog.

Of course, I refused, and he laughed that I could walk home. He knew it was way too far, through the woods, in the dark. He suggested I could call my foster home for a ride.
First, on what? Second, and how mad?

Rather than shut down what up until then had looked like a promising dating life, I did what he wanted. I guess I’m a fast learner, since he was enjoying it. I asked him to let me know before he finished.
Wrong strategy in a losing game!

He ordered me to lean back in the seat, and take off my pants! Of course I tried to, and before I could, object, he was on me! He put back the seat, and climbed on top of me! Soon, instead of forced sex, we had progressed to plain rape!
It was his laughing that got me sick!

So, he got what he was trying for, and after he finished it, he offered to tell my guardians. I whispered a ‘No’, like he knew I would. He took me home, and walked me to the door for a kiss goodnight.
Now, I was a toy.

It wasn’t more than a couple of weeks before I went out again. This boy was a Senior, and experienced. He took me for pizza, and then to his Dad’s garage. He knew what I would and wouldn’t do, so we were there, so he could have his fun, until I reminded him that I had a curfew, and he got me home within 10 minutes early.
Punctuality is so important.

So, that is the basic mold. If I went out, I expected that I’d be used for sex. It wasn’t my misconception, I graduated with a 100% success rate.
Rate, missed it by 1 letter.

I’m in college now. Somehow I got some scholarship and grant money, enough to move away. I got to start over, would be the plan. I found they had counselling services.
Moving away made me think, maybe too much.
I was diagnosed with Self-Esteem issues, and minor Bi-polar from PTSD. I missed classes routinely, so they cut my load.
I was the one who thought I was OK with it.

From the outside, my foster care house was great. I went back later to talk. Of the 6 girls there, and 2 that left before me, I brought up what happened to me, and that they assumed the foster care girls were good targets. 9 of us, How many had the same treatment?
0 were virgins
0 were by consent

I hadn’t been as disgusted when I was being raped, nor after, nor do I foresee being again.

— Lee, age 21