Author's note : Hey folks, I'm back again with – yet – my second story. This one is already

finished, so I hopefully won't have difficulties to post regularly. Hope you

have as much fun reading it, as I had writing it.

Please RR.

Chapter 1:

It was deep in the night when the teenage boy silently entered the house by the kitchen's backdoor. He had locked his room from inside, had taken the backdoor's keys and had escaped through the window. He had been grounded for tonight, but he didn't care – he was supposed to see a girl tonight. That was much more important than any given, damn prohibition. He gently closed the backdoor and tried to get to the kitchen door as silently as possible so he wouldn't wake anyone. He knew he would be in really big trouble, if he would.

But he never even had a chance to cross the room – suddenly the room was enlightened brightly, much too bright for his eyes being used to the darkness outside. He winced and immediately closed his eyes as a security measure. He realized what this meant: someone had switched on the lights and he now was in deep trouble. He blinked with his eyes and could see the shape of two people, one sitting at the kitchen table, the other one standing behind her. His parents – his foster parents: David and Joane Matthews. He knew what they would tell him, before they even had spoken a word and he knew how this situation would end. He didn't care about their rules and their way of living, he didn't care about them believing they had a right to educaate him and judge about his activities. He was almost sixteen, he was independent and he didn't need these people. He was thankful they had offered him their love and support and he knew he actuallly owed them a lot, but that didn't change his feelings. He had no love for this people and no respect.

They weren't his parents and although they were getting along mostly – even if they didn't get along so very well – there were times when it was really hard living under one roof with them. He had let them know how he felt about them without having regard for their feelings and he had been rude and mean. He believed Joane had been very upset about it and David had been furious, but he didn't really get why – they had known they weren't his parents and he thought he had made it very clear to them, that – for him – they weren't. He was more like a guest in a hotel or even an ill person in a hospital – he was send here to be taken care of and his current caretakers received money for fulfilling their task. And like those people, the Matthews had no rights to decide about his life, but they didn't seem to realize it. There had been a lot of fighting and arguing about this question lately, but they wouldn't change their point of view and he had grown desperate and angry.

He had started to skip school, meet friends, stay out till the middle of the night, smoke, drink and have parties. Just to show them they couldn't do anything against it and that he was old enough to decide on his own. But they didn't treat him like an equal person – they had still treated him like a child, like their child and had grounded him for the weekend. But it had only made him feel more furious. He knew chances were low that the situation would improve, they wanted to take care of him as parents and he wanted to be respected as a grown up individual – somebody who could take care of his own. He also knew he couldn't stay here if they wouldn't change how they reacted to him and he had told them this too. But this wouldn't be the time to talk about it, this would be the time to listen to the Matthews accuses and their blames on him. How childish he was, how immature and that he had shown once again he was too selfish and carefree to live an indepent life on his own.

"Where have you been boy?"

"I'm not your boy..."

"Answer the question, Joaquin. I won't ask you a second time!"

He shrugged and gave them an unintersted look.

"I was out. I answered your question. Are you happy now? Can I leave now?"

"Don't you talk like this Joaquin Matthews. You're still living in this house and as long as you do, you won't disrespect us! So don't be soo precocious and arrogant! With who have you been and where?"

"It were my friends and it's my business where I have been. So, I won't tell you!"

"We're the one's that give you a house to live at, clothes to wear and things to eat. We are the one's taking care of your social security – so it is our business."

"You know what – I don't care..."

Now the psychological and understnading phase of the conversation would start, as his foster mom took the word.

"Joaquin, what are you so angry about? What's wrong with you that you are so carefree and willing to hurt us? Where's the problem?"

He sighed out loud and received a warning look from David for this.

"There's no problem and there's nothing wrong with me. It's you people that are having a problem. You don't understand that I don't need you!"

"You're 16 years old – you very much need us! What do you know about the real world out there? Have you ever had a job or have you ever had to pay for your bills? You wouldn't get along out there!"

"Yeah I know, that's what life is about. Thanks that you paid for me!"

"Joe, you know he didn't mean it like that. We love you, you're not here because we are paid for it!"

Joane tried to explain and tried to calm him.

"Don't call me that, my name's Joaquin. Don't ever call me that again!"

"Calm yourself, boy and don't talk to her like this! You may not see it, but you owe us a lot!"

David seemed to hesitate as he realized what he had just said and Joane shot him an astonished look.

"So, you want me to be thankful? That's what you want, you want a thank you for keeping me here, grounding me and talking to me like I was a child? That's what you want? Anything else – what about getting down on my knees and kiss your feet – would you like that?"

"Stop talking like this – right now!"

"And if I won't what are you gonna do? Call the police, call social care or do you wanna hit me?"

"Just because your father did, it doesn't mean I will do it too!"

Joaquin was left speechless by that. This had hit him hard. There had been a secret agreement not to talk about his corporal parents and insulting or blaming them was something that he never even would have imagined to come over one of the Matthew's lips, but now it had happened. He could see Joane's expression and he knew she was absolutely furious about what her husband just said.

"David! Shut up – you'll only make it worse! Joaquin, he didn't mean it, he didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry – he's sorry. You're sorry David, aren't you?"

He seemed honestly sorry when he told him.

"I'm sorry."

"That doesn't make it any better. I don't need your sympathy. But if you feel better in being sorry – okay. I won't stop you!"

"Joaquin, I really am..."

He wouldn't let him finish – he didn't get this goddamn audacity.

"Stop it! Shut up! I don't wanna hear about it okay! I don't wanna hear about your feelings and wishes, I don't wanna hear about what you think is right for me and I don't want to listen to your speeches. You have no right to even tell me anything and you have no right to judge about me and speak prohibitions!"

"We're your parents – we have any given right in the world."

Joaquin's voice was quiet when he answered to David's statement, much too quiet.

"No, you're not. My parents are dead."

Then – without another word – he stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, where he opened his room and locked himself inside of it once again. He could hear David yell after him, but he didn't care.

"Come back down here."

Than he couldn't hear anything else. He was on the edge of crying and he was desperately thinking about what to do next. He knew this endless fighting wouldn't stop. He wouldn't take a step and they wouldn't either and he knew he couldn't go on like this. He needed his freedom, his independence, his own life. Whatever he was going to do – he couldn't stay at the Matthew's house.

Down in the kitchen, Joane Matthews shot her husband a sad look.

"Why did you do that, why did you start with his father. We had an agreement not to ever do this. You remember?"

"I know and I'm sorry. I just lost my temper on him. Why is he acting like this, why is he talking like this? I don't get the boy. Where did we went wrong?"

"We didn't get it wrong. He's a teenager – David. It's just like this. Every parents have to go through this phase with their children."

"Just that we aren't his parents and he isn't our child – at least we have to hear this almost every day."

"I know it hurts you and it hurts me too. But he's right – he isn't our son..."

"But we are the closest thing to parents he has!"

"I know David, but we have to face the fact that he is growing up now. This is a difficult time for him. He's trying to find out who he is and the one thing he knows is that he isn't our child! He knows that for sure, the birth certificate tells it so. So I guess that's the reason why he's so angry."

"So he doesn't care about us any longer?"

"He still cares about us and he is greatful for the life we made able for him, but he can't show it and currently he can't accept that. We have to give him some more space and we need to give him time. That's all we need – a little distance and time."

"Yeah – and a lot of courage, faith and patience!"

She slightly smiled by her husbands' words.

"Probably – yeah."

"You wanna try to talk to him again, tonight?"

"Give him some time on his own. We will have a talk with him tomorrow."