Mistake

Chapter One

I don't know where I am anymore. I lost track of the direction I was running once I got into the forest.

Hi, I'm Missy. Well, actually that's not my real name. My real name is Megan SomethingorOther. I have no idea what my last name is. Missy is my nickname for myself, short for 'Mistake'. I know, pretty sad. Don't judge, you don't know me. No, I'm not emo. Or depressed. Actually, I have it pretty good. Who wouldn't want to be on the run from their trigger-happy mother with their only company as a  ridiculously prideful cat?

Speaking of which, the former mentioned is complaining pretty loudly from my running bag I snatched from some unsuspecting tourist visiting the area. Not my best loot. All that was in the bag was a granola bar and some used running shoes. They're a little big, but they work.

I make a left at the lake, now on familiar ground. I feel a cramp in my side, but push on. A few more minutes and I'm home. Any normal person wouldn't have seen anything. That's because they weren't looking the right way, up.

I start climb the tall oak I've been living in for about two weeks now. So far, nobody has discovered this camp and I haven't run out of food. My stomach gurgles at the thought.

Running is a tough thing. For one, I am regularly sore, so I have to stop and make camps often. I can tell you right now, climbing a tree while your legs feel like jello isn't easy in any way possible. For two, you burn calories way faster. I know it'd be easier just to hitchhike places, but I can't seem to get myself to trust anyone, not even for a car ride.

I get to my nook of the tree. The birds leave me alone because of the cat. I rummage through my waterproof seal bag that I leave up here, looking for some of the cat treats I stole the other day. Lady crawls out of the bag. Her name is kind of a funny story.

I found her after I found my father. I had been crying for a week in an abandoned boathouse on the edge of town. I happened to look outside at the lake and saw a cat struggling in the water. Apparently, she had been trying to out do a bird by trying to climb farther out on a branch over the lake. Needless to say, she wasn't that great of a swimmer. Its hard to land on your feet in a lake. Being 10 and in great need of a friend, I dove in after her. Not the smartest thing I've ever done. The stupid creature ended up latching onto my arm and hitching a ride to the shore. I named her Lady I Saved Your Butt, because she acts like royalty and well, I did save her butt. It was to much of a mouthful though, so after a week, I renamed her 'Lady Hester' after the main character from my favorite book, The Scarlet Letter.

In the orphanage where I grew up, I was pretty much a loner. I read a lot and did really well in the schooling. My best friend was the librarian, who was the one who recommended the Scarlet Letter to me. I loved the tragedy and the strive for repentance. It is quite the novel, and I would recommend it to anyone.

Lady claws me, shaking me out of my flash back. My hand finally lands on the cool plastic of the cat treats and she knew it. She climbed into my lap and looked up at me with her big brown eyes. Her coat is a mix of black, orange, and mostly white patches.

"Haha, enough begging, cat."

I throw a treat farther along the branch and she rushes to get it. I leave a pile so she can have dinner when she's done playing with the first treat. I pull out some trail mix for me.

I've tried the whole 'tough girl lives off the land' thing, but I can't really pull it off. Rabbits on a spit grosses me out as much as the next person. The difference is, sometimes that's what my life has come to. I mostly live off the tourists visiting the coast. Right now, I think I'm somewhere in Northern Florida.

Lady finishes her dinner and starts to settle down. I pull out my blanket and pull it over me and Lady. I can hear her snoring, but can't bring myself to sleep. I'll fall asleep somewhere around one or two in the morning, but not if I think about it. I'm obviously not afraid of the dark anymore, but I don't like being unaware. My consciousness fades and I begin to dream.

***

I dream I am with my mother. I can't see her face. Just her long chocolate brown hair. We're in the bar that I found my father in, but he's no where to be seen. Suddenly I hear sobbing, I look around, and realize its me. My mother wraps her arms around me, and suddenly I forget who shot my father. This feels right. The dream begins to disperse, but my mother kisses my forehead and whispers in my ear:

"Sometimes, you just need to know when to shoot."

***

I wake up to the sound of crunching leaves below.