Sweet Boy ✔

ten

zander
(warning: this chapter will contain features that may involve drug abuse, alcohol abuse, depression themes, and neglect. please read with care)
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"Can you please just listen to me! I can't change! No matter how much you try to 'fix me', I can't be fixed! I'm already too broken!" I screamed at him. 

"As long as you are living under this roof, you will do as I say. If you don't like it, get the fuck out!" He yelled at me on the top of his lungs. 

"No! Mum and Dad wouldn't want that. I'm not leaving, I don't care what the fuck you say. You do not have the right to kick me out!"

"Your Mum and Dad aren't fucking here anymore, I am. So if you don't like it, get the fuck out of my house!" I walked over, punching him in the face as hard as I couldn't before racing back to my room, slamming the door shut and locking it, preventing him from getting in. 

I grabbed two duffel bags and my backpack. I filled the duffel bags to the brim with my clothes, underwear and shoes, trying to pack as much in as possible. In my backpack, were all my important things, phone, wallet, mementos, a photo album, some books, and pretty much anything important that could fit.

I went over to the bedroom window, opening it as wide as I could, before throwing the duffel bags out, landing in the small shrubs below. Lastly, I picked up my lacrosse stick. I looked around my room. There were a few things left over. Trophies and medals, school books, my ice hockey stick, my favourite pairs of socks, my albums, vinyls, cassette tapes. Sadly, I couldn't bring everything.

I jumped out the window, landing easily on the ground. I picked up the duffel bags, finding the easiest way to carry them, before I headed toward the street.

00:47.

The moon was covered by clouds. The only source of light came from the distant street lights surrounding the area.

I didn't know where I was going. I had nowhere to go. I had my grandparents, but they lived an hour away, and that was by car.

The only place I could go, where I would be able to get any sleep, was the small playground just outside of the towns centre. It wasn't populated by kids most of the time. It was known for it's illegal activities. Drug deals and gang violence. I didn't want to go there, but I had nowhere else to go.

My legs were aching. My arms felt numb. My hands were starting to callus in the palms from holding on to the rough straps of the bags. I was ready to pass out. I had no idea where I was. I know I'm definitely not near the park. I should have gotten there an hour ago.

04:23.

I was in the city by now. I was parched. I didn't think I would need a water bottle, so I didn't bring one.

04:57.

I finally found a park. It wasn't the park I was thinking of, but it was still a park. I stalked over to the nearest bench. Placing my bags and lacrosse stick underneath, before pulling out a few t-shirts from the bag. I lay down on the bench, placing my jacket beneath my head as a makeshift pillow, and the few t-shirts over me as a blanket.

I was still very cold. My teeth were chattering. But the more I lay there, doing nothing, the more my mind shut off. Pulling me into a dreaded sleep.

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"Hey kid, had a rough night?" I heard the faint grouchy voice of a man. I slowly opened my eyes, the sun had barely risen.