FBI Agent

One.

Two years ago.

I feel the cold everywhere. I feel it seeping it's way inside my bottom, spreading to my legs, my arms, my chest. I feel everything turn so icy, it becomes numb. My ripped denim jacket isn't enough to keep me covered and I shiver as a thick gust of cold air whirls past me.

I bury my face inside the once cream blanket that has now turned into a rotten brown colour, the fabric matted and flat. The stench coming from it is over powering, nauseating. I cling onto it because it's the only comfort I have.

Go home Hunter. Put up with the abuse for another year. Go home to warmth and a decent bed.

I grit my teeth, shaking my head at my thoughts. They repeat constantly in my head, appearing when I feel the weakest. Right now, I'm broken, almost giving in.

And then I remember the pain.

I remember the stinging and burning of my skin. I remember the burning hot feel of my tears streaming down my cheeks. I remember his scowl, the way his eyebrows knitted together as he stared me down. I remember his icy words, the low laugh he did as he saw my broken expression.

Most of all, I remember the promise I made to myself.

So I clench my fists and tense my entire body as I bravely fight the cold. I have to survive, for myself.

"I've got this," I murmur, blowing air into my hands. I close my eyes and sigh deeply, leaning back against the dirty walls. The cardboard underneath me shifts from my sudden movement and I groan, feeling a patch of cold slab meet my bottom.

I don't want to stand to adjust it, the mere thought of moving right now caused me to shudder. My entire body ached and screamed at me in agony, begging for comfort.

That's when I hear it. It starts off low, like a gentle humming sound.

I pause, freezing in place as I strain to hear the whereabouts of the noise. I swallow the fear building up inside my throat, ignoring the way my hands trembled as I peer around the front of the doorway. I turn my head to the left, narrowing my eyes as I study the dark road. It's pitch black outside, the streets deserted. People are at home with their families, tucked up on couches with their blankets. Cup of tea in hand whilst they watch their favourite soap drama on the television.

No-one is outside at this time of night.

No-one except... the homeless. One of me.

I warily turn my head to the right as I study the remaining part of the dark road, constantly reminding myself to not overreact.

Maybe it's an animal. Or the wind playing tricks on me.

Or... it could be a murderer.

"Stop it Hunter," I mutter, leaning back into the doorway and wrapping my arms around myself. I shake my head at my silly thoughts, pushing the fear away until it becomes non-existent. Silence falls upon me once again and I sigh, resting my head against the brick wall.

If I try to sleep, it'll pass the time. Some days, I'm too scared to sleep. I'm afraid every time I close my eyes, I'll be vulnerable.

I'm fourteen years old but my mind is one of an adult. I've had to grow upon my years if I want to survive living on the streets. Within a few weeks, I mastered the basics.