Prologue

I looked into a puddle that was lying lazily on the ground. About fifty freckles covered my nose and cheek, and my dirty blonde hair was uncombed and frizzy. My hair flowed down passed my shoulders straight and greasy. It had been two days since I showered, slept in a bed, eaten a meal at a table, and gone to the bathroom in a toilet. It feels so much different as a runaway than living at home.

The tears I cry are warm. I can feel them running down my cheek. My mirror is the only thing that has ever seen me cry. When you start to cry it feels like you won't ever stop. The water just keeps coming out. Your eyes turn red, they are all watery, and your stomach hurts. Today, I felt the warmth, the moisture, and the painful aching that just doesn't stop. I didn't want anyone to see me so I ran to my room and locked the door. This time the tears were different, they were still warm but, they stung.