BAD BEGINING
So, why am I running away? Well, my mom is dead and my dad’s a drunk. Anyway, my dad hit me several times and tried to kill me. Literally! Is that reason enough? Yes, I think so.
My name is Dee and, from now on, I don’t have a last name, Dee no last name. I’m fourteen and a half. I’m tough, smart, cunning, and most of all lethal. I know I sound like a wimp because I’m running away but I’m not. Running away is the right decision. My dad will kill me if I don’t. I have ebony skin and small but very hard muscles. Before my mom died my nickname from her was little African priestess. Man, do I miss her.
While pulling myself together, I stumble upstairs and cramp my stuff into my bags. I haul them over my shoulders and sprint down to the garage. I shove my dad’s cameo colored 9mm in the back of my pants and cover it with my large Dallas Cowboys shirt. Backtracking to the kitchen I load up all the food I can and snatch the keys to my mom’s old Mercedes Benz. How grateful am I that my mom taught me how to drive. Very.
I chuck everything in the trunk and hop in the front seat. As I rev up the engine and ease out of the carport I see the light to my dad’s room flicker on. Uh oh, pedal to the metal I peel out the driveway and onto the road.
I slow down somewhere around Fort worth. Which is about sixty miles away from my house. Or should I call it my dad’s house? Either one sounds good to me. While I ride up and down the streets I turn on the radio and flip through the stations and stop at one playing my favorite song, my life by Lil Wayne and The Game. Sure, it’s an old song but I love it.
After stopping at a local gas station’s lot, I count how much money I have to see how long I can go without getting a frigging job. Yes, I said frigging. I have, at the least, 6,000 dollars so I guess I’m ok for about three months.
I pull out the lot listening to Chris brown singing look at me now.
Gender:
Points: 300
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