The Oatmeal Church for the Homeless turned out to be an old warehouse a mile away. Yup, I did go. People ignored me, but I had a feeling they knew I was new. I had only been there about 10 minutes when I saw the lady that had given me the card. She approached me and welcomed me. I asked her how she knew I was homeless and told me she had run away as a child. She said the way I had looked reminded her of herself while she had been homeless.

I answered her questions, and she told me about herself. She had run away from home when she was fifteen, because people had been bullying her. Last year, she went back home to see her parents, and they had been so happy to see her. She told me that I should call my step-parents, and tell them I am ok. I told her that I would never do that, because they had been the ones to abuse me, and so I was NOT going to call me step-parents. Calling them would only help them find me and if they found me, all that would bring would be more scars, more pain, are more of the past. That was the number one thing I didn’t want and the number one reason I left. Sure school was tough and many kids didn’t like me, but that was no reason to run away. It was my step-parents that made me leave. It was because they were not doing their job. Parents, including step-parents, were supposed to love and nurture their children, not beat them until they could be beaten anymore. But I guess it had been my fault as well. Any smart person would have gone straight to the police, but I had been too dumb to figure that out now. Now, it is too late to do that. Too late to recover what I have done.

I need some time alone. I'll try to write again sometime. But don’t expect it to be soon.