Point-Blank

CHAPTER ONE

Es•cape
/əˈskāp/
verb
1. break free from confinement or control
*****
My pair of dirty black converse slap against the wet concrete of the Bronx. Cars pass me as the rain pours even harder, no one even sparing a second glance at me while I run down the sidewalk.

It's a cold April night. I, Charlotte Selene, am running away. Again. It was the only thing I was ever good at. Running away. Running away from my problems.

I slow my pace, feeling like I have gone far enough to slow down. I pull my black hoodie over my dark brown hair, protecting it from the cold spring rain. I shove my hands in my pocket, feeling my hand graze against the money that I have stolen from my foster parents. I took about $500. I don't feel bad. I consider it reparations for all the shit they've put me through.

My destination is Manhattan. Which is pretty close, but so densely populated they won't be able to find me. I've learned things like this from past failed attempts.

I keep my hands in my pockets and my head down as I walk into the subway station, trying to draw as little attention to myself as possible. I am a 5'4 girl who is relatively small, I can't fight off a man if they decided to attack me.

The subway ride was short, but it felt like hours with a scruffy middle aged man staring at me the whole time. Fucking pedo. Once the train got to downtown Manhattan, I got off. It's busy, even at 2am. College students drinking, drug dealers dealing, men and women working. I love it. I always grew up near New York but never really in it. I have been in the foster care since I was 8. I usually bounced around from house to house somewhere in New Jersey.

But now, this is my home. New York, New York. I look around to see the homeless, knowing i'll be hanging with them for a little bit. It doesn't bother me, I've been in this position before. I have to survive, I gotta survive. I'll do anything to not go back. I won't be going back.

I see a dingy looking 24 hour diner and decided that's the best place to be. The interior is dull pink walls, with red booths. I make my way to the back towards the restrooms. I set my backpack down against the door, rummaging through it to get my things. I find my meds, popping two of them into my mouth, swallowing them with no water. I change into simple baggy jeans and long sleeved black shirt. My eyes find their way up to the mirror. My dark brown eyes look back at me. Dark circles accompanying them. I looked pale, sickly almost. My shoulder length brown hair looked messy, my face looked dirty, my body looked frail. I took a deep breath, before turning and leaving the sketchy bathroom.

I made my way to the booth sliding in. I order a coffee and sit for hours looking out the window. I eventually see the sun starting to rise. I look around to see more people weaving through their lives. I'll be one of them one day, i just need to get all my ducks in a row. Then i'll be just like them. I gather my things and walk out of the diner into the streets of Manhattan.

I look around and whisper to myself, "Welcome Home, Charlotte"

*****
chapter one finished! it's a short chapter, but once the story moves along chapters should get longer. i hope you enjoyed! let me know what you think!