An old teacher of mine once said 'Don't run from your problems or they'll come back worse than before.' Of course, I was smart and didn't listen to him. I ran from everything. From my family, almost from life, and from everyone who makes or made fun of me. My family was mean, terrible, and abusive. They only cared for themselves. Treating me like the ugly duck in the family.
That was until one night we got in a fight. I ended up running to my room locking the door behind me. I lived in a one-story house in the countryside of Minnesota. Then one thing came into my head. Running away. I started to pack everything I'll need. Money, clothes, and some other stuff that is close to me. I was in the corner of the house so they wouldn't be able to see me. I opened the window and set my two bags on the grass outside of the house.
I climbed out of the window my black and white vans hitting the semi-dark green grass not far from my bags. I closed the paned window. Tears falling down my face. I grabbed the two bags before running. I ran until I got to a bus stop. I didn't stop until I got to a weeping willow in a park. I was somewhere in the Northern part of California.
It was the next morning when I heard a lady talking to a man. They were talking about jobs that the courthouse is giving to runaways. I got up and made my way there thinking my life will be better than it is. That's where I was wrong.
Hi, I'm Cassie-Maddison Taylor. And this is my story that I'm going to share. Not someone else's. But mine. Strap in. You might be in for a ride.