Runaway

Then

Hey, my names Max, my life is kind of a mess... my parents are abusive... they always drink... and I never got why... I'm 8 today, my parents didn't remember my birthday...
They never do anyways... but that's okay, I can celebrate alone, with my animals, my stuffed animals atleast... I always try to play but if I do so much as stain the carpet... I go into the cellar for at best a week... least to say, I had to grow up fast, teachers hate me for being stupid, my classmates bully me and hit me... and my parents... you've heard about them... I have a baby brother... his name is Rowan, but I don't talk to him... I never understood why he doesn't talk to me... it makes me sad, and when I ask my mom about it she just calls me stupid... am I stupid? I don't think so, I've always known my parents were like this, mean... not well... but I never showed it... I always hated my life... I never knew why they were so mean... and I knew one day I would leave, I'd run, like a gold medal olympian! That's the one thing my parents let me watch, they always told me that I would go to the Olympics some day, I even grew up doing sprints! But I would never be as fast as the men on the screen, they were like a superhero, and man... I'm sad I wasn't like them... maybe then mommy and daddy would stop drinking, maybe they would love me...

I sit in my room, like usual, staring out of the window, I always did this, I always planned my escape, like a super villain, or a prisoner, and honestly... I always feel like I am one... I stare and stare and stare till I get bored, I always hoped spiderman would just come to my window and saved me, he's my idol, I'd always play spiderman in my room, shooting webs (silly string I stole from my attic) and climb walls! I practically felt the heat from my parents bickering downstairs, their voices slowed and slurred, drunk again, they were angry about some bills that they couldn't pay, saying we would get evicted in a few months, but the time didn't matter, my mommy would just flirt with the man and then take... other measures of pay... I sometimes wonder how my daddy is okay with it... but he is... and it makes me sad that he is... but I never do anything about it because if I did he would just hit me again... like always... should I be scared of my home? This is how I grew up, I'm used to it and honestly... I don't feel much emotion anymore, I don't scream when they hit me... I just silently cry... I know I shouldn't feel like this but it's just how my life is... I can't change that now... not unless I ran away... but that's absurd, I'm 8 years old... I couldn't live in the wild, what would I do for water? Is it safe to drink the rain? I don't think so... I give up on the idea, sighing before continuing to stare through the glass, face emotionless... room empty... they don't give any money to buy me a bed... only mom gets a bed... for her... other payment methods... I sleep on the floor, no bed, no shelves, no clothes, as if it was a show home built in the 70s, my toys are probably older though, I can barely make out that my dolls are animals, most just look like deformed mud creatures... covered in mud... they scare me but other than the window... its my only form of entertainment... It's safe to say my parents only give me the bare minimum... Or less... I can't tell if this is normal... I don't have anyone to compare it too... so I'll never know... I stand, pacing around my room, deep in thought... I'm wondering if I CAN escape... maybe... maybe I can actually leave... but for now I'll just stay here... wait for my food...