Death is life

Chapter 1

I've been searching the streets for a while now, trying to look for a shelter house that isn't full. Unfortunately, every single one is full. It looks like I'm going to sleep outside in the cold again. This always happens to me. I can never seem to find a place that can take me.

I walked to the bench across the street, and layed there for a while. The streets were still very busy. A lot of drunk guys were fighting it's really scary. Finally, once pretty much everyone was gone I decided to close my eyes and go to sleep.

I usually fall asleep slowly anyways, but tonight it was almost impossible to calm my mind which was cluttered with thoughts.

 Will I find a job

 I could get kidnapped tonight

 It would be better than this daily torture

 Will my parents find me?

 I really hope not, that's the only thing worse than being homeless, living with my parents again

When I was little, about 6 or 7 my parents started being mean to me. It was usually just them yelling at me to clean the house but it got worse. I was 9 when I realized that kids aren't the ones who do all the housework so I started ignoring my parents. They were infuriated and started calling me words I didn't even know the meaning of, words like ungrateful bitch and lazy asshole were added to my vocabulary. I also learned that I better start listening to them again because they'd hit me whenever I didn't do something the way they liked it. It hurt lots and I was crying myself to sleep at night, but I thought it's not like it could be better, this is normal, right?

One day, I was cooking our breakfast before school. I reached up to try and turn off the oven and my dad urged me to hurry up, he pushed me forward and I knocked off the bacon pan and fell on the floor all the scorching grease and bacon landed on my body.

Most people scream out in pain and so did I, "AAAAHHH!!!" I began to cry tears replaced the grease on my face and if it wasn't bad enough my parents were furious that I ruined the meal, they were calling me names again and hurting me in any way possible, my own "father" picked up the pan that a minute ago held bacon, yanked my arm and held it against the burning metal. It hurt so much I couldn't even react. So he kicked me and I made a sound so loud I think i permanently damaged my ears. The clock read 8:20, they finally had to get ready for their million dollar jobs and I had to run to school.

My classmates were giving me strange looks and I don't know why. I mean ya my arm is burnt but I deserved it I ruined breakfast!

This girl, Samantha, walked up to me and said, "Analy what happened? You look terrible." I had a giant red mark covering my arm and a layer of skin was peeling, the second blistering. I answered her question with what happened this morning. She told me it wasn't normal for that to happen to kids, she gets bought toys like stuffed animals and Barbie dolls.

That was the day I decided I wasn't coming home. If I was supposed to be living this life that, in comparison to my current one, is a fairytale, I was going to find that life. I asked Samantha to never say a word to anyone.

Instead of walking to my house after school I walked the opposite direction hoping to find somewhere to stay.

I couldn't thank Samantha enough she brought light to how terrible my situation was and potentially saved my life.

The next morning, a woman woke me from my sleep and asked where my parents were.

"At home" I said, "I learned they weren't treating me properly so I left"

The nice woman asked me in a voice as sweet as honey "Would you come with me, I'll take you to an orphanage, it's where kids without parents live" I nodded my head and got up to follow her.

The orphanage wasn't too bad for the first year or two. I noticed kids had been leaving so I asked where they went. The owner told me they got adopted, that someone wanted to be their new mom and dad. For three whole years at the orphanage I kept making new friends and having them abandon me after a few months, I was sick and tired of it. I stopped trusting the girls who said they'd be my friends forever, they never kept in contact after they got adopted. I locked myself in my room. I knew no one would want to adopt me I'm a disappointment, I'm made up of just skin and bones, and I have this nasty scar on my arm.

The business has a rule that once you reach the age of seventeen you have to leave the orphanage and find a job. Your other option is more if you fail to get a job, you become homeless and obviously for me I couldn't get a job, a park bench being my new bed most nights.