Most stories have happy bits and sad bits, but some are just sad the whole way through.
Dean was a foster child from Africa. He didn't know who his real parents were, he just knew that the people he was with didn't love him as they should. He knew he wasn't wanted, wasn't needed. It was only for the fact the Hutchinsons were getting paid that he was with them.
On his 86th week of living with them, he got the courage up to ask who were his real parents. "Real parents!" They scoffed. "They're dead and want nothing to do with you." Dean had heard about all those other foster kids who were sent to amazing homes and were having the time of there life. Not him, it was never him. Dean was bullied in the foster home and was treated like trash in the new home. He just wanted his mum and dad back.
Dean looked out at the stars. He was told that when people die they become beautiful stars out in the big dark sky. He closed his eyes and whispered, " Mummy, daddy... I want to be a star as well." He smiled as a tear rolled down his cheek. He looked around his small room in the attic. The Hutchinsons were out and as usual, left him by himself.
"I just want to go home." He was only 11. His story had barely even started, but he knew he wanted it to end. Dean was ready to close the book, ready to never open it again. He stood up on the windowsill and looked out across all the rooftops. The front door opened and the Hutchinsons were back. The pair of them came marching up the stairs and opened Deans door.
There he was, a young boy, on the edge. Mrs. Hutchinson looked at him and said "Dean... why?" Dean replied with a short sentence. The last sentence he would ever say. He looked up at Mrs. Hutchinson and said, "Because this is where my story ends." He smiled a soft smile and leaned back, looking at the stars. Ready to join them.