Snapshot of a CEO's heart

"You must be Emily. It is very nice to meet you both. Please, come on in," the lady says as she opens the door further.

I shyly took her hand, and she led us inside. The house was cosy and filled with laughter and the smell of freshly baked cake. I couldn't help but feel a little out of place in this happy atmosphere right now.

"You must be Emily. It is very nice to meet you both. Please, come on in," the lady says as she opens the door further.

I shyly took her hand, and she led us inside. The house was cosy and filled with laughter and the smell of freshly baked cake. I couldn't help but feel a little out of place in this happy atmosphere right now.

'Maisie, this is Mrs. Thompson. She and her husband have kindly agreed to take care of you both for a little while,' Mariah explained while still holding my hand.

I looked up at Mrs. Thompson, unsure of what to say. She just smiled and said, 'Welcome home, Maisie.' But I didn't want to be here. Instead of saying thank you or hello, I burst into tears and ran outside.

Her words brought tears to my eyes because I shouldn't be here. And even though my parents left me here, Mrs. Thompson showed me a sense of warmth and comfort, which I didn't feel was deserving of me.

As the days went by, I settled into my new home but kept my things in my suitcase and backpack just in case, because, you know, my luck... I wish for one thing, and something else just so happens to pop out. Being 10 years old and being forced into a new place is exhausting. Emily is staying in my room for a few nights, just so I have someone here. I hate being alone, and they don't know what I like or don't like.

Being left in the dark is a major dislike for me. Mrs. Thompson and her husband, Mr. Thompson, treated us with nothing but respect, something I had never experienced before because I was too young and didn't quite understand the meaning of it. I knew my manners and I knew being polite was needed to get about, but I didn't realise how horrible a situation could be until you're placed in it with nothing to do or no one to turn to.

2 weeks have gone by so quickly, and my time here is becoming nicer each day. Mrs. Thompson took me to the mall the other day, and we picked out some new shoes and outfits because some of my old stuff was still at my parent's house, as I didn't think we were really leaving the house, and the social worker said we couldn't stop by to pick them up in case my parents were still there.

School was slower these days because I was so upset half of the time, and Taylor had started to notice my change in mood, but it didn't stop her from pestering me with questions. "We hopefully get out letters today," she says while flicking her notebook open.

"Our what?" I was a little embarrassed that I didn't even know what she was implying.

"Our pen pal letters. Come on, catch on."

I have always been close friends with Taylor, so when everything kicked off, I basically cried to her. Again, I'm 10, and I'm crying about something like this... I mean, yes, it's life-changing for me and my sister, but I didn't want to seem like a baby.

"Oh right. Okay, I forgot about it" was all I could say because I had, and right now I wasn't bothered about any of it, not the letters, because I knew my pen pal was probably going to be nice and caring, and it's going to be so overwhelming with the last couple of weeks I have had.

"Okay, class, we have our letters back today! It's looking very promising that everyone will get all of theirs. Just remember that if you can't understand what they're writing, ask me for help."

We all agree, and then proceed to get out of the books and pens, ready for rewriting our letters.

"Maisie, here's your letter." Mrs. Jenkins is a lovely teacher. The first day I came back to school after 3 days of being at home, she didn't treat me any differently, even though I could see the sad look in her eyes every time she asked me if I was doing okay. I always nodded my head most of the time, and when I was at Mrs. Thompson's home, I made sure I did all of my homework and then more schoolwork just to keep myself busy. I grab my letter and read the front of it. The writing is okay, I guess, and I think I will be able to read it but let me open it, and see.

Dear Maisie,

I don't know why we are writing these stupid letters, but I didn't want to write back to you, but my teacher told me I had to. Your life in Texas sounds boring, and I'm glad I live here in the city. It's big, and there's so much to do here. I like dogs, but my mom said I won't be able to have one anytime soon unless I'm willing to look after it. And as for the friends part, I don't think so. I have my friends here, which I don't need anymore.

Anyway, enjoy your life. In Texas, I heard it's a cowboy town. Where do you live? Are you a cowboy? Or cowgirl? Anyway, I'm not bothered. This was a letter I only wrote so I wouldn't fail my class. I have to go now, but I hope you have an okay life.

Not your friend, Max

Tears welled up in my eyes as I continued to read his words. How mean can someone be? I hate the fact that his teacher allows them to put these kinds of words on paper. Wiping my eyes angrily, I pull out my pen and grip it tight to stop myself from crying more because of him.

I rip a page of my book out and do my reply. If he can be mean, then so can I.

I don't think I would have been bothered by his response if I hadn't already been feeling like my world had just exploded all around me. I wouldn't be fussed by his snide remarks or how his handwriting is so terrible I had to reread it... several times... just to make sure that I was reading certain words. Or the fact that I laughed so hard because everything has come barging into me like a big rugby player who weighs a tonne. I became a burden to my mother and father... I wasn't wanted the same way my sister was, and so they got rid of us both. They didn't want either of us... yet every time I think back to every family memory we all shared, I always believe they loved me. I was loved. Wasn't I?