Empty As I Am (boyxboy)

I'm fairly excited about this story. It's a little darker than my other stories. But I think it will have more depth. I'd be pretty excited if you would be nice enough to read, vote, comment, all that good stuff. Thanks so much! :)

CHAPTER ONE

          I ran as fast as I could. My legs were getting tired, but I wasn’t going to stop no matter what. I didn’t want to look back to see if anyone was behind me. I just kept sprinting in the same direction. I hadn’t thought about where I was going, and I had no idea where I would end up. All I knew is that I had to get the hell out of there. I finally stopped once I got to Main Street and noticed there was no one following me. There were a lot of people around so I figured I was safe there. I walked past the window of my favorite comic book store and looked inside. Besides the comics, I noticed my reflection. I looked like shit. My face was pale and there was a huge knot on my forehead. I reached up to touch it, but winced from the pain. My clothes looked like I had been wearing the same ones for days, and there were bruises on my arms and neck. I covered the knot with a layer of dark brown bangs and continued walking.

          As I walked, I couldn’t help but think. I thought about all of the bullshit that made up my sad pathetic life. ‘No one probably even notices I’m gone,’ I thought to myself as the cold night air hit my face. I thought back on my childhood. An image of me with my mother flashed into my head. We were at this park that she would always take me to when I was a kid. She was waiting at the bottom of the slide for me to slide down. I was terrified, but she assured me that I had nothing to worry about, that she’d always be there to catch me. So I trusted her and slid down into her arms.

          That was before I lost her. I was ten years old when she died. I remember when I first found out; I went weeks without eating and sleeping. Five years had passed, but I still found it hard to sleep at night sometimes. It was times like these that I missed her the most. I wanted her to be there, waiting with open arms to catch me, like she always said she would.

          After walking for some time, I noticed that I was in a part of town that I didn’t recognize. I was starting to get hungry, so I looked around for somewhere that I could stop to eat. There wasn’t anything open from what I could see. I looked down at my watch. 3:23AM. Damn! What would be open at this time? I kept walking until I came across a gas station. There was a neon sign flashing in the window that read OPEN. Score! I went in and my mouth almost started watering at the sight of all the snacks. I hadn’t eaten all day. I picked up a few bags of Doritos, some candy, a few sodas, and some Oreos. I was careful not to get too much because I didn’t have much money on me. I had eighty bucks saved up from mowing lawns the previous summer, but I couldn’t waste it. I didn’t know how long I would have to be out there on my own.

          I threw my items onto the counter as the clerk looked at me with suspicious eyes.

          “Can I get a pack of smokes?” I asked, looking him in the eye.

          “Can I see some I.D.?”

          “I don’t have it on me,” I lied.

          “Well not gonna happen, kid.”

          It was worth a shot. The clerk at the convenient store near where I lived didn’t card, so I’d go there all the time and get cigarettes. This guy obviously wasn’t as cool. I still had half a pack left; I just didn’t want to run out. I figured I’d find another store that would sell to me, so I moved on. I gave the cashier cash to pay for my snacks and then headed out of there as quickly as possible. I stuck the snacks into my backpack, leaving out a bag of chips for me to eat while walking.

          I passed by a school that was painted green and white. I realized where I was now. It was my old elementary school. I walked by and peered through the gate that surrounded the campus. Memories came flooding back, not all good ones. I thought about how the kids all bombarded me with questions when I came back to school after my mom died.

          “Did you cry?” some kids would ask.

          No fucking shit, dumbasses! Of course I didn’t say that at the time. I would just reply with a simple nod or a shrug whenever they asked me questions that I didn’t want to answer. It was even harder trying to explain my new brothers and sisters to them.

          I moved into a foster home after my mom died. It was the scariest thing for me at the time. Suddenly my “parents” were two complete strangers, and I had brothers and sisters whose names I couldn’t even remember. I hated it there. Every day for the first few days I was there, I cried nonstop. After I had cried myself dry, I just stayed silent for a while. I didn’t talk to any of the other kids there. I didn’t know them and I didn’t want to know them. Eventually, I got over that and realized that it was inevitable. I was living with them whether I liked it or not, and not talking to them wasn’t an option. So I started to try to fit in. It got better. After the first year, I had accepted them as my new family, but it was hard. I didn’t have a lot of clothes, money, toys, or anything. Most of my stuff was either shared or hand-me-downs. You get used to it after a while, though. That’s why I started mowing lawns, so I’d have a little of my own money to spend. The older I got, the easier it was to hide the fact that I was a foster child. We didn’t bring it up at school and people didn’t usually ask. I wasn’t ashamed of it. I just didn’t think it was something that people needed to know, because when they did find out they immediately categorized us.

          I stopped reminiscing when a yawn escaped from my mouth. I needed to find somewhere to crash for the night. I kept walking, in hopes of finding some place. I came across a park. I was apprehensive, but it was pretty well lit and the area didn’t seem too bad. I sat down on a bench and sat my back pack down beside me. I pulled out and my Oreos and a soda and had one last snack for the night. I noticed a picture had fallen out. It was a picture of my little sister, Jade. I forgot I had packed it when I was planning to leave.

          I had learned to never get attached to my foster brothers and sisters, because so many of them didn’t stay. As soon as I would start to feel connected to someone, they would be gone just as fast. But Jade was different. I loved her like she was my own flesh and blood. She was only 11 years old, but she had been living with my foster family for most of her life. We grew so close over the years and I couldn’t imagine losing her.

          “I’ll come back to see you,” I promised her before I left.

          She was the only person I told about me leaving. She was really the only one that I thought should know. She probably was the only one that actually cared. I stared at the picture, admiring her beautiful smile and innocent brown eyes. Her long black hair was curled, with a bow in it that matched her yellow sundress. Tears swelled up in my eyes as I thought about her back there without me. I knew I was being selfish for just leaving the way that I did, but I knew she understood. I wondered if I would ever see her again.

          I put the picture back into my backpack and wiped my eyes. Another yawn exited my mouth and I knew it was time for me to get some rest. I laid down on the bench, using my backpack as a pillow and my jacket as a blanket. I tried to put the events of the day behind me as I drifted off to sleep.