On My Own I ran, ran away not knowing where to go or who to call. I looked at my sore hands, full of scars and blood from that terrible house. I couldn't imagine how a person could be like that. Lonely, miserable and full of hatred. This was all my fault. I ran away from my parents, thinking they didn't love me anymore. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe I'm still at my house, drinking a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows. I pinched myself hoping it was. It wasn't a dream. For once in my #life, I was alone with nobody to talk to or get comfort. I was on my own in a middle of a #lifeless street. No bus, no people, no nothing. I walked along the side of the road, crying, hoping for someone to find me and bring me home. I stopped and waited outside a bus stop. I wiped my bloody hands on my ripped jeans and tried to hold in the tears. I couldn't do it. I thought about how my #life was back then, back when my little sister, Jane, was born. Everyone was so happy and so was I. I missed the sound of Jane's voice every morning. That smell from the breakfast table. How I wish I could eat bread and eggs. I was hungry with no food to eat and no water to drink. I knew what was going to happen to me. I knew I wasn't going to last another day. I cried for my mom, my dad, Jane and most importantly for myself.