They love to claim to be my family. I don’t even call them my foster parents because they are nothing like my parents: Jane and Marshall Meriwether. The FP’s wonder why I barely say anything to them. They are nothing to me.

I wish I could just rip their fucking brains out of their sickly infested skulls and stop on them. Why can’t they see my pain?! Why won’t they just understand I can’t feel love or hate or joy or sadness? I am a droid with no emotions. And that is exactly what they call me.

Oh how I wish I could have been home that night so I could save Mom and Dad. If I wasn’t such a bitch to them, maybe they wouldn’t have died. It’s all my fault. Thus the reason I inflict pain upon myself.

But I can’t change what happened 3 years ago. All I can do is live and die so I can be with them once again. They were the reason for my happiness.

Until just the other day when I met this boy. He’s 16, just a few months older than I. He made me realize I do have a heart. Can he show me how to use it again?