Disclaimer:I do not own Shane Dawson, YouTube, or the song Superluv! I do own the main character and the plot!

I adopted this story from TheHedgehogGiraffe. The first chapter is not mine, but the second one is. Please review if you'd like more. I plan to update biweekly or monthly, depending on how much inspiration I have. Thank you.

I ran down the sidewalk, my feet pounding the pavement. Sweat and tears along with rain flowed down my face, and my pants were laced with sobs. Yes, I'm a runaway. It would be stupid to deny that. But I'm also crying for a different reason. One, my mom is a devil bitch from hell and two, I have nowhere to stay. Right now though, I'm just trying to put as much distance as I can between me and that place. I know I must sound crazy, so let's rewind a bit shall we?

"Mom, I'm home!" I called softly into the darkness of the house. To call it a home would be lying. It hadn't been my home for fifteen years, and I wasn't going to start calling it one now. I tossed my shoulder bag onto the ratty old couch in the living room, and made my way to my bedroom. I shut the door quietly behind me and locked it. I slunk over to my bed and dove onto it, grabbing my computer along the way. I opened the laptop and clicked into YouTube, smiling as I typed "Shane Dawson" into the search bar. When the page loaded, I clicked right into his channel. He had a new video up, so I played it.

"Hey guys," his voice began, much more serious than usual. "I'm sorry to have to say this, but this is goodbye."

I knew that he was saying more, but I couldn't listen. Tears welled in my eyes as I tried to comprehend what he had just said. What? He wasn't making videos anymore? I closed my green eyes clenched my fists, and took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, well, I imagined a new fire alight in them. This was the last straw. I had taken a beating from my mother almost every day for the past fifteen years, and I had never fought back. I would always drag myself to my room after my mom became too tired to hit me again. A few year back I discovered Shane's videos, and it made my life bearable again. When I would lock myself in my room as an attempt to escape, I would watch them over and over, laughing and crying, escaping my own personal hell. But now? I found myself asking the question that I had always been afraid to go left unanswered every time I asked it. I had always tried to rationalize it, give myself a reason to stay. But the truth was, I was afraid to leave.

I didn't think I was anymore. In fact, I knew I wasn't. I don't know what possessed me to walk out that door, but I do know that I never looked back.

So, I grabbed a duffel bag from the closet, stuffing it with my laptop, a charger, and a pillow. Then I eased out the front door, closing the door behind me. I closed a door then, and opened a thousand.

So here I am, running down the street with tears in my eyes, finally letting out what I've kept in for fifteen years. I could have kept running, far away. Maybe have found a bus, got on it, and never looked back. Could have, if I hadn't ran straight into someone.

I fell to the pavement, letting out a startled squeak. The man offered his hand and said in a voice that was so familiar that it hurt to hear,

"Oh my god, I'm sorry Miss! Are you okay? I wasn't looking where I was going!" I glanced upward in shock, staring at the only person in the word I ever felt connected to, even though we hadn't met until then. Shane Dawson. And then, making a snap choice, I lowered my head, took in a shaking breath, and whipped my hand across his face.

To be continued…