What Am I?

Chapter 3

After killing my moms piece of shit husband, I left home. Out, all alone. I would roam the streets, sleeping wherever I would pass out. Usually with an empty bottle in one hand and a half smoked cigarette in the other.
Oomph
"What the...?"
Another boot came swiftly across my face slamming my head into the concrete.
The man picked me up, but he was not expecting a fight. As he picked me up, I still had an empty gallon of Jack Daniels in my right hand. I brought the bottle across his face with a sickening thud. He let go of me and fell backwards. As he hit the ground I kept hitting him with the bottle. After about the 3rd time of me hitting him with the empty bottle, it busted leaving a nasty gash across his face, covering him with blood. I felt of my face, my nose was bleeding from where we kicked me in the face. Rage filled my veins, I jumped on top of the man and started hammering my fist into his already broken face and head.
I snapped out of it. I tried to gather my bearings. I looked around.  It was dark, probably about 1:30 in the morning or so. No one was about in the streets. I had to leave.
I took off down the alleyway.
I found my self at a train station. I had about $120 in cash that I stole from a store the night before. I went into the restroom to clean up my face. After I was good and cleaned, I went and purchased a one way ticket to East Texas. From LA it would take me about 2 days or so to get there with all the other stops my train was going to make. I boarded my train, found my seat, and immediately passed out.