Motion

The asphalt rubs against my cheek, turning my skin instantly to frostbite. I'm not sure why I chose to run again, another one of those 'no other options' moments. I know they are probably gonna come looking for me, but it won't be until they are finally sober because they always worry about the cops. It's probably close to morning by now, I can tell by the way that everyone is beginning to rush around, on their way to work or some other destination. The street lights will be turning off any minute now. I guess I should wake up, even though I wasn't really sleeping in the first place. I haven't had a good night's sleep since that Tuesday night, the last time I felt safe at home, the last time I was just a normal girl-13 and unaccustomed to the world. 1

"Hey you! I'm gonna beat yo ass up. Get back here!"2

Normal words you hear from living on the streets. A new life I've created myself, because nothing I have been given felt like it was truly my own. The window opens in the apartment above my head and a lady with scraggly hair looks right at me. That's when I leave behind my new found home, and ontol somewhere else.3

The cold December air slaps my face, and I realize that my lips have started to bleed. Too bad all the chapstick I have is sitting in my lonely room back at the house of hell. Or should I say, Drunken Valley. The night i left, I walked right out the back door, and down the porch.
I walked right by my mom, but she was too drunk to notice. She was collapsed onto the antique couch in our living room, with a bottle of Grey Goose lying beside her on the floor. 4

Just as I was getting into my day dream, I noticed a Market Basket across the street. It looked so tempting after walking around like a zombie for two days- the only nourishment, from the city dumpsters. I couldn't just walk in there, looking like a homeless girl begging for food. I've been wearing the same dirty clothes since the day I ran, and showers are still only a dream.