I’m so thick for thinking about my parents. My real parents. I know what it does to me. It rips open a huge hole in my chest, letting all of the demons out from inside of it. Spreading all through me as quickly as someone gets a chill from cold winds. All I feel is pain. But in spite of all that, I raise my head, holding in high out of respect and pride! Pride to be their daughter! And respect because they were fighters, just like me! Fighters till the very end!
The cold wind’s whipping my, average size, body. Distracting me from my thoughts. If I wasn’t used to the night, and all the things it brings, I would of shivered. I sigh a deep sigh, out of relief; I think. Right, better get going. I’m sprinting to the side of my, isolated, house. Well, mine since two weeks ago, when I was fostered. AGAIN! But, I don’t want to think about any of my former fosters, especially not when I’m running.
This is my time. One of the only things that keeps me sane. I adore running, I really do. Father used to say that I could run faster then any cheater, that he’s ever seen. I’ve stopped, gripping my stomach. Stop it. Just stop! The hole raged open even more and the small stitch in my side isn't helping much on my account. Anger is filling my dry mouth, as I pant rapidly. What's up with me? Why do I keep on thinking about them? Well, I know the answer to that. Of course I do! It's happening too soon, all of this. The deaths are happening too close together, good thing we're meeting tonight otherwise I think I'll burst.