I've been walking for about an hour now. Walking from the bus stop in Rusvil to Freeridge is a pain in the ass.
Good thing nothing changed.
The street lamps being the only light as I walked through the neighborhood.
I'm really hoping they didn't move, because that would be really embarrassing.
Could you imagine? A beat up looking sixteen year old looking like she came from Rusvil looking for her gangster family. They would just laugh in my face.
Even though it's summer, I'm still freezing my tits off in these clothes.
Running away from my crazy adoptive family was somewhere in my schedule anyway.
I stopped waking as I heard music from around the block, laughter along with it.
I'm seriously hoping that my memory didn't bring me to Prophets.
I turned the corner and saw a bunch of cholos smoking, talking or working out in front of the house.
And there sat my cholo brother and, probably, soon to be cholo little brother.
I'm glad they repainted the house. From what I remember, the last time I saw this house, six year old me wasn't happy with the red color. Glad they painted it white.
I grabbed the strap of my backpack nervously, my skirt and top doing nothing from protecting me from the wind.
I walked towards the house, the music getting louder the closer I got.
And when I was close enough, a few cholos spotted me, one patting Oscar's arm as I stopped in front of the house.
Oscar looked up and the talking stopped as everyone looked at me.
"You know, it's not nice to leave your sister at an orphanage"
