Born To Destroy

Chapter One: Patricia

"Get out!" My father bellowed after me as he chased me out of my own house.

The warm summer air traveled into my lungs as I ran up the hill to find a curb to sob on. I was only eleven years old and had already been kicked out of my house because I accidentally dropped my dinner plate.

Tears poured down my cheeks onto the cement creating slightly darker circles. The dark and silent night was disturbed by my short breaths and whimpers. My cheek was red and sore by the drunk hand my father used to slap me silly.

What did I do wrong? Why did I deserve this?

"Hey are you okay?" A soft voice interrupting my cries.

I took my focus off the asphalt street and led my eyes to meet bright green eyes. The beholder of the voice had brown hair with blue tips. She was pale but beautiful. She wore a grey hoodie with black, torn jeans. She seemed intimidating however her eyes told me that she was kind.

"What's your name?" she attempted to make small conversation with me, a complete mess. "I'm Patricia," she smiled the kindest smile I've ever seen.

"J-Jen.." I looked down ashamed of myself for meeting someone like this.

"Well Jen, you want to tell me what's wrong?" Her eyes softened.

"Nothing," I managed a discouraged chuckle. I was never one to say what's wrong especially to a complete stranger.

"That's a lie but it's okay," she smiled. "I just hope everything's okay. I hate seeing people cry." I nodded quietly, looking away. "Anyway, Jen, I've seen you around, you live not too far right?"

"Yeah just down the street," I pointed towards my house. I looked down, I didn't know how to communicate, no one ever taught me.

"Oh wow we live close.. I live a block over, I just had to go for a walk to smoke a stoge," she smiled and took out her lighter.

I was always put off by people who smoked, drank, or did drugs because I saw what it did to my brother and my father. However, she seemed perfectly calm and normal.

"How old are you? You're too tall for an elementary school kid but too short for high school, so you must be in middle school," she raised an eyebrow.

I hesitated but finally said "I'm eleven. I- I'm going to the seventh grade this coming fall."

"Nice!" she smiled then suddenly frowned. "What happened?" she questioned placing her hand on my swollen cheek gently. I tensed when we made contact but I didn't need to answer, she knew full well what happened. "Come to my house, I'll give you ice and we'll hang out," she smiled.

I know you're never suppose to accompany a stranger to their house, that you're never suppose to trust them. However, seeing as I had no where else to go I followed her to her nice and comfortable home.

"Mom's asleep but she won't mind," she whispered opening the front door. She gestured to her old couch that I went to sit on as she went to get me an ice pack.

The rest of the night we just watched television in silence. This peacefulness was ruined by my phone vibrating in my pocket. I looked down and saw that my mother was calling. I sighed and stood up knowing what my mom meant by calling me; she wanted me to back to the broken home. I was raised to please her, I didn't know any better. I thanked and said goodbye to Patricia.

"Hey whenever you need anything just come over," she smiled handing me a small piece of paper with a number on it, which ended up being hers. I nodded and headed home.

I tip-toed to my room and jumped on my bed and stared at my blank ceiling wondering why this stranger was so kind to me.

Little did I know this stranger would soon become my best friend and that my life would change tremendously.

This new beginning, this story is how I lived then slowly died. This is my story.