As I continued on my way, I began to reflect on the life I'd had back in my old home in Alabama. My mom had had me at the age of sixteen, and my father had never been in the picture. Rather than trying to find a job to support us, or even trying to go back to school, she wasted her time partying, getting drunk, and then repeating the cycle. The only reason we had enough money for our small apartment was because of her string of boyfriends. Whichever one she was dating at the time would pay our bills, and usually these men were already married. And usually, these men didn't give a fuck about me. But then again, neither did my mother. Every night she'd come home drunk and angry, and of course she'd take that anger out on me. I still had a scar underneath my right eye from the time she "accidentally" threw a steak knife at me. And the morning after, she'd always apologize, but she never really meant it. Because if she had, she would have tried to change. I hated her, but I'd never had the courage to report her to the police or the state. But now I didn't have to live with that anymore. And Lord was I thankful.
But my thoughts were interrupted when I heard a voice shout.
"There's the girl! The missing girl!"
"Shit," I thought. I've been found."
