The rain pouring upon my face. Pouring down from my forehead into my eyes, hiding the tears I had cried. I couldn't believe what had just happened. Getting kicked out of your own home at sixteen years old. This was the final straw. My dad didn't want me anymore. I disappointed him, but he is the one that is a disappointment to our family. He's a drug addict and he tells I am the one that needs help. My mother couldn't of stopped him even if she wanted to. He would beat her when was drugged and sober. What was I going to do? I lost my mom, my family and my home, all in one day. I had no place to go.
Walking, shivering, losing blood from where my dad had hit me in the face. I didn't know what to do, so I sat on the corner of twelfth Avenue in the pouring rain for about twenty minutes until a car pulled up beside the street next to me.
"Do you need a lift?" the voice inside the car said. I stood up and caught my balance, but then fainted. Did I mention that I hadn't ate?
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