I Was Poor For YEARS, But Got Adopted By A Rich Family скачать в хорошем качестве

I Was Poor For YEARS, But Got Adopted By A Rich Family

Check out our channels in your favorite language Spanish https://bit.ly/3ljA5lO German https://bit.ly/2QnDRfw French https://bit.ly/2QqWbV6 Our second channel Story Time Animated 2 https://bit.ly/34E34uR The last fond memory I have of my parents is that day at the zoo when I was little. I had an ice cream cone in one hand, and my parents took pictures of me next to a huge giraffe. Then they left. I remember waving goodbye to them from the door as they drove away for their vacation. I remember jumping around the house, doing whatever I wanted. I remember crying at night thinking “What if they never come back?” Please take a second to hit that like and subscribe button below to let us know you like these stories, and hit the bell to be notified when a new one is out! When school started that year, I was a mess. My clothes were ripped and old, and I hadn't slept properly in days. People sat away from me in class because I stunk. I was just a little girl, with barely any money, what was I supposed to do? A few days later, I was watching TV when I heard the doorbell ring. “They’re back!” I thought, rushing to the door, but when I opened it, I saw a strange lady. Now I knew she was a social worker. I was put in an orphanage, having to share a room with five other girls. I kept telling everyone I talked to that my parents were coming back, I knew they were. They just gave me looks full of pity and told me to go play. About a year passed before I was adopted. I was called to an office and I was introduced to a glamorous lady in a fur coat. I shook her hand, but she actually expected me to kiss it. She took me home, and she lived in a mansion. I met her husband and her two sons. They boys, or I guess my brothers, were always super nice to me, but my adoptive dad barely looked at me. My adoptive mother took me up to my room, which was bright pink. It was the epitome of a stereotypical little girl room, to the point that it was offensive. I told her I didn’t even like pink, but she said I’d get used to it and left me there. Her name was Seraphina. Fancy, right? Seraphina tried to be a normal mom to me, she treated her sons and me just the same, with a slight difference. She pushed me to wear dresses and skirts all the time. I even caught her giving my pants away, so I didn’t have a choice. She made me drink tea, even though I hated it, and always made me eat salads, even though I hated those too. I would sneak out of the house from time to time to get food I liked or go climb trees at the park, but when she caught me she’d drag me to some stuffy brunch with her tennis club friends. I talked to her about how much it bothered me that she tried to change me, and although she apologised and gave me a hug, she went right back to ballet lessons and such. One time I was picking flowers in the garden for a bouquet Seraphina wanted me to arrange, when I pricked my finger picking a rose. I hated the sight of blood, but I didn’t have to look at it for long because a boy came running to my rescue.