Running away from home wasn't ever an unusual thing for me and for my parents, they never cared. I would always hide up in the trees not far from home waiting for them to come find me. Every time I had faith and every time I was proved wrong. I watched the sun set and the felt the breeze slowly grow colder before I decided to go to one of my friend's houses.
My friend knew my situation better than anyone else in this world. I was given a spare key after the first few times I would show up. Sometimes my friend wouldn't even be here, but I liked not having to stay in that house. When my friend is here I would always feel super comfortable and like I belonged. Sometimes we'd have to shout due to living so close to the train.
One time I didn't leave for a few weeks and I hid in my room only leaving for necessaries. I started going downhill and my friend had decided to come check up on me. I was startled because I didn't think I'd be found here, no one knew where I lived. The last thing I remember saying that night is "everything's not alright and I would rather die"
