1
I stepped into the store and looked around. It bled normal. Mothers hurried their children along, trying to get out before they see something they really want to buy. Little kids darted around, playing games to relieve themselves of their boredom.
“Your not fair.” One little girl cried as she stomped her foot. Her mother swooped down and picked her up, putting her in the shopping cart. She pushed the cart right past me, not stopping to stare at me or phone the police.
My stomach grumbled and I took another look around the grocery store. It had been almost a month since I had stepped foot into one of these. I had no money, but that wasn’t going to stop me.
I began to circulate around the store, putting a few little things into the pocket of my coat. I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Since I ran away, I was living on what I could find. That wasn’t much.
My stomach rumbled again, and I pressed my forearm against it in hopes to shut it up. With a sigh, I turned to exit the grocery store, keeping my head down. I prayed that an alarm wouldn’t sound. I prayed that no body would catch me. I haven’t been caught yet. I don’t want to start now.
I was living in an alleyway, alone. It was cold and lonely, but better then where I came from. I still had the bruises, still had the nightmares of my stepfather doing what he did. I had been on the run for almost a year. I wasn’t about to go back. I reached behind the dumpster and pull out my old, worn out backpack and pulled out my dead cell phone.
As if I had willed it just thinking of my old home, I could hear the police sirens. I slung my bag over my shoulder and began to run. It made me looked even more guilty then I was. I had only stolen a pack of smarties and a chocolate bar. It wasn’t murder. My heart was racing. My feet hit the cement as I pushed myself to go faster and further.
“Sawyer.” It was my mothers voice from the intercom. It made me stop in my tracks. At once, I envisioned my mother, her soft, dark red hair a cloud around her pale face. I can see her huge brown eyes wide with unshed tears.
“Honey, please.” she said, “please come home. I’ve missed you.” I slowly walk towards the cop car, and my mom gets out of the car.
“Mom?” I asked. It was the first time I had spoken in a very long time. My voice was raspy and quite from no use. My eyes welled with tears. I did really love my mom. I just couldn’t stand the man she was with.
“Please, honey, come home with me. Michael and me had a talk. He won’t hurt you anymore.” My mother said quietly. I opened the door to the back of the car and threw my bag into the back.
“Fine.” I grumbled, “I will.”
