Chapter 1: Running Away

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For too long I have put up with it. I tried to be strong through it all. But that wasn't enough. The pain no longer felt as bad as it did when it had all started. My parents were both heavy drinkers. They became this way after we lost everything to the gang they used to belong to. That's when they turned to alcohol to take their misery away. When I was little we lived in a normal house on a normal street like normal people. Before that my dad and mom had been rebels in high school and were in a dangerous gang. After high school they decided to grow up and have a decent life. But the gang wouldn't let that happen. To get back at my parents for leaving them, they raided our house and burned it to the ground. I had been six, so I can remember it slightly. My parents couldn't turn to the police for help because the police had been after members of their gang for years. We had to move into a rented apartment in a broken down neighborhood. They tried to stay positive but then they started going to the bar more often. Almost all their money soon went towards alcohol. I had to scrounge money for clothes from thrift shop stores. The clothes never fit me. Whenever my parents were intoxicated they took out their anger on me. They beat me, bruised me, and battered me until I was always a crippled mess of tears. But this time it went too far. My parents had gone out to have their drinks like usual, but my dad had gotten into a fight at the bar. He came home with a black eye and a busted lip. He was angry beyond belief. He took me by the hair and threw me against the wall. He kicked me in the stomach until I couldn't breathe. I couldn't catch my breath in time to scream as he stomped on my arm. The searing pain came first like a fire through my entire arm. The bone shattered under the weight of his foot as a choked scream caught in my throat due to my loss of breath. When I could finally scream, it tore through my my lips with so much pain etched into it. My father laughed and staggered over to the broken couch and slumped down into the dusty cushions. I pushed myself up with my good arm and leaned on the thin sheet rock wall. I can't take this any longer. I need to escape. My eyes flickered between the door and my father who had turned on the television to watch some sitcom. Curling my broken arm protectively to my body like an injured animal I crept across the dirty yellowed linoleum of the apartment towards the door. As soon as I had reached the door I stopped and whipped around.

"Where do you think you're going you little shit," my father asked as he stood up from the couch. My eyes widened in fear as he stumbled forward. Taking the only chance I could I threw the door open and ran. I could hear my father yelling behind me, his foot steps loud in pursuit. As I reached the street I saw rain pouring down hard. My sneakers slapped against the cracked pavement and became soaked by various puddles that formed in potholes. Looking around I frantically tried to find a place to hide. Water from the street trickled down a manhole into the sewers with a faint pouring noise. My eyes flicked down the street which had nowhere else to hide. Taking a random piece of metal I pried up the manhole cover and slid the heavy plate to the side enough to allow me to fit through. I squeezed down and pulled to cover back into place with a loud clang. Climbing down the ladder I hopped down into the rain water which had run into the sewer. Clutching the metal bar close to my chest I tried to control my breathing. My heart pounded wildly as I heard his footsteps echo over the manhole.

"Keyda," he screamed my name with such venom that I trembled and squeezed my eyes shut.

"When I find you, I will kill you!"

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