Grass and leaves crunched beneath my old beaten up sneakers as I pushed through the cold fall air. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I was positive it would obviously lead me anywhere but here. The wind whipped at my face, stinging my dark, nearly black eyes. It seemed to be whispering something in my ear. "Turn back...turn back..." I can't turn back, not now... I thought, answering the wind's lonely call in my head. Ever since my birth I had been tortured, abused by this man that I was supposed to call my father. My parents were drug and alcohol addicts and died at a young age, "coincidentally" being the same age they were when I was born.
Since they died I didn't have do deal with their abuse, but I couldn't imagine anything that felt worse than how I felt with my new guardian. I have scars everywhere on my skin because of him. These scars tell my story.
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