September Scars

Storming up the stairs, I pushed open my bedroom door, and slammed it shut. I pulled open my closet, ripping my ragged old backpack from its rusty metal hook. I threw the backpack onto the cold, wooden floor, violently unzipping it, and began shoving as many of my clothes into it as I could fit. Scavenging through my drawers, I managed to find two twenty dollar notes, and slipped them into a small pocket in my bag. I slid my phone and it's charger off my bedside table and into my hoodie pocket. My eyes scanned across the room, searching for anything else I might need. Slipping on my black high tops, I swung my bag onto my back and headed for my window. I pushed open my cracked glass window to the side, kicking the fly screen off. I watched as it crashed to the ground below. Before I jumped, I muttered under my breath,

"I'm sorry, mum. I can't take this anymore."