Mistake

Mistake Prolouge

I run.

This is the only thing I've ever seem to do anymore. Its become my way of thinking, breathing.

Someone's coming for you? Run.

Someone wants something from you?

Run.

Over the years, I've lost all contact with any familiar faces, anyone whose ever said a kind word to me. I live alone, always alone. The moments between sleeping, resting, are getting longer. I think about blinking more than ever, trying to keep my eyes open, never a moment of vulnerably. My mother, she was raised on the streets. She taught me the REAL ways of the world, in one sentence.

Her motto: Trust no one.

That's the only thing she ever got to teach me.

You see, my mother was a smart woman. She stepped through her life on her tip-toes, maneuvering cautiously, careful not to make her parents mistake. As far as I concluded, I was the only unplanned thing in her life. She left me in an orphanage, where I escaped when I was 8. 

The first thing I wanted to do was find my mother. The only clue I had was the note she left me at the doorway,

"Megan, you'll never know me. I hope you never do. You will be special and strong and beautiful. But my life, I have all the pieces. You don't fit into the picture. Don't try to find me. Trust no one."

I'm 18 now. The only thing I've been able to find was my father. I knew it was him immediatly, because he and I share the same eyes and nose. I found him in a bar in the middle of Montana. He was drunk and alone, but he recognized me. He called me Maria, which must be my mother's name. I tried to ask him where she was, but all he could say was Maria. I was getting up, but he pushed me. I fell against the wall, barely able to look up before the gunshot. It didn't hit him in a full on open fire. Shot once in the hand, where he was reaching out to me, where I was a moment before. And once in the head, killing the source of my mother's only mistake. I look out the window and barely catch a glint of dark brown hair in the sunlight. The exact same color as mine.

Now, I run.