I've been on the run for three years. I'm not the first, but I certainly won't be the last.
For as long as I can remember, I had been experimented on, drugged to the brink of insanity, and tortured by someone I thought was my family. Boy, was I wrong.
This isn't one of those stories where I suddenly get a huge boost of courage and defeat the bad guys then live happily ever after. I don't believe in that stuff anymore.
Instead, I was a coward, and ran for my life, for my freedom, because I was too afraid to stand and fight and risk losing control like the monster they had created me to be.
I've been too many people, have moved too many times. Now, I wonder if I will finally be able to find a place to call home...
I won't allow myself to be captured before I even have a chance at that. Because if do, I'm as good as dead.
~August 26th, 2013
***Please note that the following is a work of fiction. Any names, events or occurrences of any kind coinciding with real life are purely coincidental.***