JOURNAL D'UNE SANS ABRIS
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J'ai toujours su qu'on ne m'aimait pas dans la famille d'accueil ou je me trouvais, mais je n'aurais jamais imaginé qu'ils oseraient me mettre à la porte.
Je m'appelle Molly.
J'ai désormais 19 ans et ma maison c'est la rue. Depuis maintenant 1 an jour pour jour
On m'a mise à la porte le jour de mes 18 ans. Avec le peu d'argent que j'avais j'ai pris un billet de train et j'ai quitté la région. J'ai laissé derrière moi, ma meilleure amie et mes amies pour une vie à la rue.
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"What...can you please tell me what's going on. Why are you so mad?" she pleaded for answers. Damn she's good. She stood up from the couch and started walking towards me, trying to touch me. "Do you really want me away? Away from you. Like really really go?" she asked me again, acting confused. This time I see tears in her eyes threatening to roll out. I can't. I can't. Why can't she fucking tell me the truth. I literally saw what she did. Really pissed, I started shouting. "YES, I'M BLOODY SURE AIMEE. SO CAN YOU FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE FOR NOW". Reluctantly she turned away from me, walking towards where she left her stuff earlier, sniffling. She took her things and was ready to leave me. I opened the door for her. Almost stepping out from my house, she took my shaking hand by surprise. "You know you can talk to me right. I'm always here for you. Always", she said. It only pissed me more. She stopped at the doorstep turning to look at me. But I was a jerk. Because I fucking shoved her out of my house.
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