The Run Away

So I ran away. That’s the first sentence of my exciting story.  My dad wouldn’t care. He never told me the truth. In fact, I can hardly call him my dad; he’s kept so many secrets from me.

      I have my back pack full of food,
water bottles, the money I’ve saved up, two changes of clothes, and my
necessaries. All I need to survive. On the outside I’m wearing layers and
layers of clothing plus my winter coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and boots.

            It will be cold. Inside my bag I
have two other pairs of shoes; my tennis shoes and converse. Everything I need.

            I take my first steps out of my home
town. It felt a little scary, but I did.

Where was I
traveling? Who knows? Probably to Tennessee. To my mom’s family to learn the
truth. The truth of me…of her.

            That was three states away. I’d have
to travel through Ohio, Kentucky, and Part of Tennessee to get there. So really
it was two in a half.

            I paused, thinking. Am I serious?
No, I’m really doing it. He was a jerk and keeping secrets isn’t in my
vocabulary list for a family. Especially, if her wanted to be one.

            I took my first steps...out into the
world…with no one.

My first day out,
alone in the world seemed okay. I walked until I was hungry. Then I’d stop, eat
a little, and walked some more. That first night I stopped and slept on a
bench. It wasn’t the most comfortable. I lay on the hard wooden bench staring
up at the stars. They were beautiful. I curled up to the back of the bench and
closed my eyes. I still was in Michigan. Probably one more day ‘til I’m in
Ohio, I thought. I wanted to do all the math in my head, but sleep weighed my
eyelids down. I gently closed my eyes and soon I was asleep.

            The harsh wind blew hard against the
back of my head. I didn’t bother to put my hood over my head because sleep was
already tugging me into its layer.

            That night I dreamt of my mom. Both
of us were in the backyard, playing. She was pushing me on the swing. I looked
to be about two years of age. My curly brown hair was exactly like my moms. My
eyes the same green color too. We could’ve been identical twins if we were the
same age. Then my dad came out of the house. He didn’t look like him, but for
some reason was. His face was unshaved. He had a white undershirt on and in his
hand was an object. It was shiny and small. I started to cry and my mom knew
what the object was also. She immediately went into action.

The End

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