Remembering Sunday

I could hear the pitter-patter of my converse's sole's beating the cracked and wet cemented walkway. My breathing was quick and fast, my heart beating hard, and rough, as I strode in a long and quick pace. My backpack slapped my back, making me wince and groan in agony. I took a quick look behind my shoulder, I sighed in relief when I didn't see my crazy mother running behind me. I stopped in an alley and slid down the back of the wet brick building. The cold drops of rain pelted my face, dripping down my chin and onto my soaked clothes. I shivered before bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I rested my head on my knees and sobbed. I needed to get away. I couldn't take all of this pain. I needed...help...