Girl in the picture is not the girl...
I walked in my room because I was worn out from the day I had. I plopped on the bed.
My mom or step mom plops herself in my beanbag chair, higher than a cloud.
"Yes" I said irritated
"Hey lil girl how much you make today" she said high and loopey
"$20.00" I said low so she won't hit me harder than she normally would.
"You think you bout to come in my house and not have no money and live here? Pack ya stuff and leave" she said serious but high
She started giggling like something was funny. I got my bag and attempted to put stuff in there. She got up and knocked me to the floor. My "dad" was even worse he was a crackhead, if he was here he would have cracked my head.
I held on to my head and got up. She grabbed whatever she could and threw it at me. I ran out the front door and just kept running. I knew I couldn't run no further. I stopped at a park. I went into a coma or passed out.
I guess from being hit millions of times you have no choice but to fall out.
