*********A/N*****
Hello people of wattpad !(: This is a little short-story I wroteя. This story is PURE FICTION. None of this is real. I made this short story as an English project for school. It's a little sad but my teacher really liked it ! I love writing stories !! This is my very first "short-story." The character in this story is a 17 year old girl named Paje(: I really hope that you enjoy this and for a little shocker, I'm 14 years old(: Enjoy ! And don't forget to vote, rate, and comment on my stories !(:
Running at 17
****************************************************************************Paje's POV**********
Screaming, all I heard was screaming before I felt a sharp pain contact my cheek. I winced as I gripped the enflamed area. I looked with blurred vision, water already gathering at my eyes, to see my foster father standing in the doorway with bloody knuckles. I could hear the frantic shrill of my foster mother's voice, begging him to leave me alone; effortlessly trying to push him away. Those were only a few moments of horror that occurred yesterday afternoon before I ran. I was now somewhere between my once home and the city of Cheshire. I ran, ran from all my home, from all my fears... That's all I ever did. I was tired and my legs ached. It was unbearably hot outside. I could already predict that's the rest of the summer would be miserable as well. I layed under a small tree behinds a building, before slowly drifting away from conscienceness. I awoke to the sun creeping around the side if the building. I groggily walked over to a bear by trash can, violently throwing up the contents of yesterday's meal, as I clenched my stomach. The sun was now beating down on me. I could still tell that it was early in the morning, due to the lack of people on the streets. I began to walk, not having a clue where to go, because I had nowhere to go. No family, and no friends. Not even knowing where i was, confused and tired... I looked down at my clothes. The once long sleeves if my shirt were ripped, exposing the unforgivable scars on my wrists. I did this to myself, trying to find a way to cope with re pain my foster father caused me. I couldn't help be think o the dreadful words he stabbed me with, before the living nightmare that's happened only hours ago. "Now it's your turn." Those were the words that repeated in my head. I could feel tears threatening to escape my eyes. I held them back, not wanting the feeling of having let my foster father win my internal battle. I did not want to go home, I could not go home. Still unknowing of why I left. He had acted upon the same violent behavior towards me countless time before. He ha done nothing different. It's not how he said, or what he did that made me leave. Normally, I would have closed my eyes and awaited for it to be over. It was something inside of me. I guess I couldn't bare to watch the enraged after-effects of his drugs be taken out on me and my foster miter. Even though she would always drink to try an forget the past, I still lived her. A part of me wanted to go back an save her from the unruly man, but I couldn't. So I began to run again.
*********THE END**********
