(completed) Ryan is a 17 year old teenage girl. People always mistake her for being a boy, due to her short hair and lack of feminine appearance. Life at home isn't the best, and she doesn't have many friends.
After her mom decided to get re-marrie...
I could hear them arguing again. It's hard to believe that my mom and stepdad haven't gotten a divorce yet since they're constantly bickering. Honestly, I'm used to this kind of behavior in my house, since they do it all the time.
We've moved twice now. I was born in Long Island, New York, and have lived there for about seven years. Then my father passed away on my first day of second grade. My mom had told me that it was because of a car crash, but I know it had something to do with my mom cheating on him. I wouldn't know, I was only seven.
We then moved to a small town in California for about two years. That's where my mom met Robert, my step dad. I honestly don't care for him at all since he is constantly spewing venomous words at my mom and I. He does tend to get a little physical from time to time, but I've managed to hide that from everyone, including my mom.
After she married Robert, we moved here to Orlando, Now let me tell you a little bit about Orlando, Florida. The kids here are cold, heartless bastards. My whole life, I was teased about being a 'crossdresser' since I dress like a boy. I've always gotten bullied for being too ugly for a girl, so I decided 'hey, why not just be myself and stop trying to fit in?'
So that's why I'm here, in my room on the last day of summer. Nobody really bothered to check on me to see if I was okay. It doesn't really bother me anymore since I don't care what others think. I spend most of my time in my room or out in the forest drawing something.
I didn't feel like putting up with their trouble, so before they could involve me in any way, I laced up my black converse and stuffed my sketchbook and pencils into my string bag, and headed for my bedroom window.
It was early september on a sunday, which meant school started tomorrow. Great. I climbed out the window and wrapped my fingers around the plump branch of the Oak tree outside my window. I swung my legs around and dropped down on the ground. Trees were changing color and the leaves were already starting to fall. This is my absolute favorite time of year; not too cold, not too warm.
Making sure nobody in my family saw me leave, I quickly jogged over to the fence that separated my back yard and the forest. The ground was a little damp and the near-end summer breeze was calming. I casually strolled down the path of the forest, knowing exactly where I was headed.
I sat in my usual spot under a willow tree and took out my sketch book. This was my favorite spot to think and clear my mind. There aren't any willow trees in the forest here, so i figured this one was planted on purpose. It was quite beautiful and caught my attention.
I took out my pencils and started to sketch the tree. I started at the base and added in each small detail of the bark that twisted its way around the trunk. I worked my pencil to the branches and sketched the willow's (leaves?). I eventually finished up the shading and put my pencils away.
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Man my legs hurt. I thought to myself. I decided to pack up my sketchbook and start walking again. I figured I should start heading home, since it was getting dark and I've been sitting under that tree for a while.
About ten minutes into my walk, I stumble upon a treehouse, Hm, that's weird. I've never noticed this here before. I think to myself. I grip the strings on my bag and walk towards the obscure treehouse. I set my bag on the ground and reluctantly stretch my hand out to grab ahold of the ladder. Slightly pulling on the ropes, i haul myself up after deciding it was sturdy enough to hold my body weight. Before i could reach the top, I heard a muffled whimper. Curious to what it was, I continue my journey up the knotted rope ladder.
Once i reached the opening at the top, I searched for the source of the sound. A boy around my age was curled up with his knees hugged against his chest in the far left corner of the treehouse. He must've heard me come up the ladder because he snapped his head up at the sound of creaking boards under my hands and knees as i crawled up.
