Runaway

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Chapter1: Rowled up

I hadn't even stepped 1 foot in the door before it started. I had just came from a visit from my older sister Layla's house. God, how I wished I'dve stayed there, coming home, was like stepping in a hell hole. As soon as my feet hit the ground her hand slapped me across the face. I never understood what I did wrong.

"Where's my money?" she screamd, in my face.

"I don't know, I just got in." WHAP, another one across the face, I could feel the burn already.

I usually don't feel it until the 5th one, but this time she was drunk. Normally when she was drunk, she would be anywhere with her boyfriend, besides being with me. There have been plenty of times shes chosed her boyfriend over me, but it still doesn't sink in.

"Where the hell is my money you slow wench?" she screamed at me again.

"I don't know, but here, heres fifty dollars please take it and leave me alone please." I knew she would take it, anything to drink her problems away.

This all started when I was 4, my mother and father would fight all the time, causing my father to go out and drink a lot. Also, causing my mother to cry a lot. After my first day at school, when I was 5 they asked me to draw a picture of my family, and how I saw us. I drew a picture of our house, with mom and dad yelling in the background, me crying in my room, my dad getting drunk, my mother getting hit, and my mom crying. When it as my turn to show it, I refused. After hearing everyone elses glamourous lives mine felt like a nightmare.

When the teacher collected my picture before lunch I felt uneasy giving it to her, but I left for lunch and recess, being a kid you really don't have a care in the world, and thats what I miss. When I came back for lunch early, because I didn't have any friends I saw my teacher crying. She looked up when she saw me standing there, and rushed to give me a hug.

"Is this what really goes on in your life Jesse?" she asked. I nodded slowly, then the bell rang and everyone came in.

"Everyone it's nap time" she caled, and we grabbed our cots and blankets. I was sleep when I woe up to my screaming mother, I wondered what she was doing at school and yelling at my teacher for.

"She doesn't know what she's taalking about, she's just a dumb kid anyway." with that being said, she grabbed meoff the cott, and rushed me out of the room.

When we got home, she slapped me across the face, hard. I began to cry and she told me to shut up. Later that night when her and my dad were arguing about me it got really heated, and he punched her in the face and left to get drunk. Me and my mom began to cry again. When I woke up my mom was still crying and daddy wasn't home I looked around for her, and saw her holding my dad, who wasnt breathing. There was blood on her hands. My dad had died from stabbed wounds.

She stabbed him. Ever since then shes been blaming me for his death and now in 17yrs old and still believing it. I'll be 18 in two weeks, July 2. Suddenly a cut across my cheek made everything come back to me, and I realized she had took aknife and cut me with it. Then she hit me with a blow to the head, everything went dark then.

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