I ran down the streets. I had no idea where I was, but from the shops and signs around me, I had to be on the outskirts of Boston.

The reason I ran away was that my father actually forgot to lock my door before he left to find one of his girlfriends. I wasn't too hurt today, so I managed to run. Usually, he would beat me until he was sure I couldn't move until next day, then leave to visit one of his many girls. It was just luck he had forgotten to lock my door this day.

I was tired, having lost a lot of blood, and I knew I couldn't remain concious for much longer. I was hungry, too, as the only thing I had eaten today was a couple of crackers for lunch. It was a bit less than what I usually ate, but I'd already adepted to eating very little.

On my way, I had gotten a couple of odd looks, and I knew my clothes were in tatters. I couldn't really remember when I'd last been allowed to buy new ones. For the last years, as in; when my father found out I was gay, I had been wearing my mom's. She'd died when I was five, and my father never threw her clothes away. The weird thing is, I'd rather come to like skirts and female clothing, so I didn't feel very comfortable in male clothing anymore.

I fell over, too tired to run anymore. I had managed to at least sprain my ancle, and my ribs throbbed with each breath. I rested my back and head on the wall behind me, I sat in a small alley near a crowded street, but from the looks I got from passerbys, I wouldn't get any help.

My eyes fluttered, and I felt my conciousness slipping. I was barely aware of someone stopping in front of me.