Her voice, quiet and scratchy, as though it hurt her to speak. Which thinking about it, I hadn't heard her speak in years and the only time we weren't together is when she was with one of her dealers. The phone dropped from my hand, skidding across the room. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the questioning looks from the boys only Mrs. Jacobs knew. I couldn't be in here I felt like all the air was being sucked out of the room. I could picture the boys laughing at me and my past, they didn't know, they couldn't find out. So I ran.
Out the room, through the front door, down the street, I just ran, and when I couldn't run anymore I walked. Finally my legs couldn't hold me anymore and I fell. Sitting in the curb my body shaking with sobs that's how they found me, miles from the house, hours later.
YOU ARE READING
Living With Boys
Teen FictionWhen you grow up on the road with a drunken mom and abusive father you learn to fend for yourself pretty well. But I had another thing coming when I got taken out of their care and was now living with a foster family. A mom and dad so desperate to h...
