Dead by 24: An Autobiography

Feeling Like A Burden

*TRIGGER WARNING: S/LF H/RM* I will put parentheses around the in-depth parts so feel free to skip over :>

I don't remember much from 3rd and 4th grade. What I do remember was painful. Devin and his buddies came and beat on me everyday. I had lunch in the nurse's office. My "parents" had finalized their divorce. I found my first knife and made my first mark. (It wasn't anywhere visible, in fact it was on my hip. Sinking the tip of that blade into the top of my hip. But it felt so very nice. Like I had deserved it. There was some part of me that knew I didn't, but I didn't know how I couldn't blame myself.)

I spent the majority of my time at the local park. It was where I picked up art and found my love of sketching nature. I wasn't too good at first, but the more practice I had, the better I got. I even got a few offers from passing by strangers, to buy some of my work. I was a 9 year old artist with people offering to buy my work. How many 4th graders do you know can say that? I had a chance to support my family. So I signed up for a website called MySpace, and posted "Going to start selling my work. Anyone interested?" Within a couple days, I had 10 people messaging me asking if I could draw them specific landscapes from all over New York. My brother had his license, so I had him take me all over on the weekends so I could draw, and then I would package them up and send them to their respective homes. The week I had 10 people, I made $100. The next week, it was $200. The more I did, the more people I got, the bigger I got, the more I made. After a month or 2, I finally had the urge to tell my mother. Let's just say, it didnt go as planned.

"You've been what?!" She screamed. She turned to my brother, "You knew about this?! You helped her?!" Nathan lowered his head and shifted his weight. He mumbled something under his breath. I couldn't hear him, but my mom definitely did.

"You both are grounded for a month." She smacked us both across the face, and walked into the kitchen.

I looked over to my 6' brother, with his black hair hanging over his face, his sad, blue eyes looking toward the ground. I knew he regretted helping me, but I wasn't sure why. I mean. I was helping, wasn't I?

Later that night at dinner, I didn't eat much. I was focused on why my family couldn't see I was only trying to help. I didn't want to be a burden to them. At that moment, I decided I wouldn't be. I was going to leave that night, and not come back. I wasn't sure where I would go, but I was going to be anywhere but there. That way if I was going to be a burden, I would only be a burden on myself.

By midnight, my brother, my sister, who was now 7 and a big tattle tale, and my mom were all asleep. I still went and checked to be 100% sure. When I walked through the kitchen, I grabbed a loaf of bread, a few granola bars, a few water bottles, and an extra jar of peanut butter. I had grabbed a trash bag and put a few shirts, pants, and underwear in it. So I threw the food in with my clothes, and grabbed a backpack and put all of my sketchbooks, pencils, erasers, sharpeners, etc. in it. I threw my backpack over one shoulder, trash bag over the other and walked over to my brothers bed to leave him the note:

"Dear Nathan:

I'm sorry to do this like this but I couldn't face the thought of telling you this in person. I'm leaving home and I don't know if I'll come back. I probably won't, but I don't know. I really am sorry for leaving like this. I hope you can forgive me. You've done so much for me, and I don't know how I will ever repay you. But I can't stand Mom and Dad fighting anymore. I can't stand getting beaten up everyday and having lunch in the nurse's office. I just can't deal with this life anymore. Maybe when I'm older like you are, we can get back in touch. Just remember, you are an amazing older brother and will always be the only family I'll ever have.

Goodbye, Nathan. I love you.

-Oren

I never did reconnect with him. That was my only regret. Anyway, I left that night and didn't look back. I walked as far as my little legs could take me, which wasn't very far. I made it about half way across town by morning, taking a few hour naps in between. I made it to a cheap motel. It was only $10 a night, and with the money I had made with my art, I could afford it. I set up my laptop I stole from my dad, and posted a photo, saying that I had moved more into town, but had no way of getting around, but I would still try to do as many commissions as I could. Not even 5 minutes later, my computer was beeping off the hook. I had people from all over the state, even some from out of state, asking me to draw different character types, landscapes, celebrities, anything and everything you could imagine. Even though I was still going to school with Devin and his gang, I thought maybe I could make everything better.

The more extreme seasons, middle of winter/summer, were the worst for me. I was trying to get from one end of New York to the other using the train, subway and my bike. Somehow I got by, but barely. The motel I was staying didn't have heating or air conditioning, and of course walking and biking made it worse. Don't even get me started on riding the train and subway next to everyone else's sweaty bodies. It makes me want to gag just thinking about it. I did pick up a cheap phone in the few months I've been here. I had my brother's number memorized, so I put it in as my only contact, but I never called him. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew he'd try to convince me to come back home. Honestly, I was surprised the police hadn't been called yet. I didn't use an alias or anything, it wouldn't have been hard to find me. But I guess my "family" didn't care. Not even my brother cared as much as I thought he did. Living in a hotel as a 4th grader was weird. Receiving strange looks from parents as I walked in after a delivery run, being asked where my mom was when I bought food from the gas station, I was never the normal kid. I was forever branded, as the girl that left home.