AN:
Guys, please not murder me in my sleep. I know I have wrote then deleted then re wrote, but I need you to be understanding and as sincere as possible now. But here's the truth and nothing but the truth: Remember that story I was writing (She thinks she's a physic)? Yeah, well I read that back and was thinking to myself What kind of crap is this? So I've been away reading many self writing improvement books.
Anyways, I named the story Come Back because...This is MY come back! And I honestly have no freaking idea on what it's going to be about right now. I'll think of something though. Enjoy!
-Haleigh
Prolouge
Nothing went right that day. Maybe I wanted him there. Only for protection. Because I would know how heartless and unforgiving the streets of the Bronx were. They're the reason I got where I am now. Not only was I hurt physically, but I was hurt mentally. Mostly mentally. Who else would want their kidnapper to come back?
My mind won. Against my own will, I stumbled down the road of Blackwood and Marion. The demented part of me wanted nothing more but to run to the Quick Shop two blocks away and go back with Josh. But the real me kept walking; kept walking home. Kept walking toward the place that got me where I am.
The clothes I wore were run down and ripped, logical. I had been wearing them for four weeks now. But being in the Bronx, no one cared. My arms were covered from bruises from hitting the side of the trunk multiple times. I let out a whine as my arm brushed against a car. My face stained with dirt and blood.
I stood silent as I reached my house. Slowly walking up the steps, I cringed. I put my hand on the ice cold door knob, but didn't open it. I looked around, the streets were empty except for a few people. Quickly I opened the door.
