Run

1:37AM

 I finish packing the last of my belongings and slowly zip up my small backpack. It weighs 10 maybe 13 pounds tops, so trekking it for the next few days shouldn't be a problem. Silently, I throw it out the pre-opened window and hoist myself onto the ledge. I've done this so many times the move requires no thought. Its' mechanical, natural even. Like a dancer preforming a turn, or a musician playing a piece she's learned for years. 

It never ceases to amaze me how stupid foster parents can be.

Put the known runner on ground floor, maybe she'll stay this time.

Fat chance. Third night in, shortest I've ever stayed. But this family was so exceptionally unintelligent, I couldn't stand it. So I'm cutting early.

I swing my legs over, and ignore the uncomfortable scratching that rips through my leggings. Let see where I end up this time.