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1

“Go screw yourself you pig.” I said grabbing my backpack.

“The fuck you say boy?” his breath smelled like sour milk. There was a bright flash and I collapsed onto the table. He held his fist up, “huh?” he screamed at me. Normally I would just wipe the blood from my nose and leave the house my moms new “boyfriend” had claimed his, but today was different. I could feel fire in my chest. I took a shaky breath and stood up, letting the blood run down my face,

“Go fuck yourself!” I screamed in his face. He swung again, but I moved my head out of the way. I lunged towards him and slammed him into the fridge. Cereal boxes and jars fell to the floor. I punched his stomach and he yelled out. He punched me hard and I fell back onto the floor. He kicked my chest hard. I slid back, the breath knocked out of me. I coughed and squirmed on the floor. I heard him chuckle.

“You stay there you son of a bitch,”

I shot up, my skateboard in my hands, and cracked it over his head. He fell back, taking everything on the counter to the ground with him. I threw the pieces of the skateboard on the floor. He was lying on the floor motionless, blood oozing out of a cut on his forehead. I wiped the blood from my face.

 

          I grabbed some stuff from my room and shoved it into my backpack. I scribbled out a note and put it on my moms pillow. “I love you.” was written on it. I walked over to the door, which was next to the kitchen. I screamed and kicked him as hard as I could. I bent over and pulled the switchblade out of his pocket.

“Thanks,”I muttered, and left the apartment. The elevator ride down the 27 floors seemed to take forever. I pulled out my phone and called Johnny. “I left,” Is all I said when he answered.

“You ran away?”he asked sounding concerned. He knew about my situation at home, and I had told him that I wanted to run away someday, but he never thought I would.

“Yup,” I responded.

“Dude, you’re only fifteen,” he said.

“So? I can’t stay there with that piece of shit anymore.”

He sighed. “I’m coming with you, my parents don’t give a shit about me anyway,”

“You sure?” I asked him. Johnny was smaller, but he could probably beat the shit out of anybody in my school, but I didn’t know if he knew how to take care of himself.

“Yeah,” he said, “meet me on State and Monroe in fifteen minutes.” he said and hung up.

 

         For the next few weeks, Johnny and I wandered around Chicago, sleeping in alleys, and stealing food from stores. The first time I killed someone was in these few weeks. I was sleeping under a fire escape, and Johnny was up, down by the street, sitting on the curb. He had said that the noises of the city calmed him down. When I woke up, a tall man had Johnny backed into a corner, and had a gun in his face. Johnny was freaking out, tears were streaming down his face.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begged crying out. The man punched him in the face.

“Shut up or I WILL kill you!” Johnny nodded. I had stood up and taken the switchblade out of my pocket. Empty your pockets. Johnny pulled out the fifty dollars he had left and gave it to him. The man smirked, and put his finger on the trigger. I ran up behind and stabbed the blade into his back. He screamed and I ripped it out. I grabbed his hair and threw him on his back. He grabbed his gun that had fallen on the ground, but I stabbed the knife into his neck. He gurgled and blood bubbled out of his mouth. I yanked the knife to the side and his throat ripped out. Blood sprayed the ground. I fell back, dropping the bloody knife. My hands were soaked in his blood. Johnny and I were both silent.