"CAITLIN" I hear him shout. "Don't try hiding you know I will find you and when I do you know you'll be in so much trouble." He waits a couple of minutes. I'm crouching in a coffin under the stairs, hiding from him.

I can hear his steps coming closer, hear him walking upstairs right over my head. I'm holding my breath- and praying to God that he won't find me. Oh dear God, please have mercy this time. I know I'm bad, and stupid and ugly, but even bad, stupid and ugly people needs to have a break from their problems a bit now and then.

My prayers seem to be heard this time, as I hear him continue upstairs, and through the hallway, further away from me. I breathe out, then I hear him stop- Oh no- he heard my breaths, no, now I can hear his going further down the hall again- and this time I make sure I don't breathe to loudly.

I pull my arms closer around me- it's March month- and the winter is taking its last few breaths over the town of Lima in Ohio- I am trying to make myself more comfortable- warmer. My thin- once red shirt isn't doing much good. I know without looking that the color of my hands, and lower arms are shifting in red, by the fact that I'm freezing cold- and I know that my nails are more blue than red- I know it- they always are.

My name is Caitlin Romero- Caitlin July Romero is my full name. That and that my birthday is the fourth of July- is pretty much all I know about myself- Except I know my parents gave me up when I was a few days old- laid me in a basket and left it with me in- to float on the Lima river with only a letter with my name and birthday- sounds like a story I know- When I was little- people at Kindergarten and school used to refer it to that story in the bible- but this is no story. It's harsh reality- and I am living it.

Someone found me there in the basket- someone told me I was screaming and someone that heard it threw himself in the river to swim out for the basket- then the social services sent me from one foster- home to another- over and over and over again for ten years- then, when I was ten- I ran away from the last one. The man that's now coming downstairs again found me- told me he would help me- but if that's what he does- I don't like the way he's doing it.

I've lived in this for three years now, three and a half to be more exact, the man- I'm sorry- but if I told anyone it was him he'd kill me- so let's just call him Toby- that's not a unique name- so even if it was his name- you could never find him with just knowing that.

Toby told me he would help me- take me to a real mum and dad that would love me and care for me like real parents should- instead he took me to this house- where it's just me and him- and I haven't been out since then. Except for "rides with the car" when I've been bad, and that happens pretty often.

In the beginning- I could hear my name as the man we call Toby was looking at the news- "Caitlin July Romero have gone missing from her home on Friday night. Caitlin is ten years old but very short for her age- very skinny- have got dark- blonde hair and blue eyes." Ha! If they had said what was true- then it would have sounded more like "Caitlin July Romero have gone missing from another lousy foster- home on Friday night- Caitlin is ten but looks like eight- and she looks like a walking skeleton with skin, clothes and eyes- her hair is messy and her eyes are so empty- not even the world's best poet could write something about it" which version you like to believe- is up to you- but it's been a long while since I was mentioned on the news- or anywhere else for that thing's sake.

"CAITLIN JULY ROMERO." I hear Toby shout for at least the tenth time- I know he's angry now- really cross- he'll go ballistic when he finds me. How can I know? Well- during those short whiles when he actually isn't cross with me- he calls me Cai- Cait or Caitie- if he's angry- he says Caitlin- and when he's really angry- he uses my full name. Scratch that first by the way- he never really uses any of those- even when he's not angry- he mostly refers to me as "kid" or his very favorite "brat."- I was in earlier foster- homes they used Cai, Cait, or Caitie. And again- either one you choose- is fine with me.

A shiver goes through my body- I'm cold- this coffin's dusty- and I don't know for how long I can go without sneezing anymore. But I gotta hold on- if I sneeze he'll find me- and if he finds me- God let him be drunk enough to fall asleep soon.

"Caitlin, if you haven't come out when I've counted to three I will take you to the car… one… " I hesitate- not again- please have mercy this time- please I didn't try to be bad… I almost put my hands on coffin's ceiling, and open it- but I stop when the thought hits me- that he'll take me to the car anyway, and I lower my hands again. "…two…" I force myself to breathe slowly- either way- I'm going to be in big trouble when he finds me. "… three… CAITLIN YOU BRAT." He kicks the coffin I'm laying- feels it's heavier than usual- then opens the lock. I'm holding my breath, and turns my head so I'm holding my face into the bottom of the empty coffin. Just to save a few seconds- a few more seconds before I have to meet those cold, evil grey- brown eyes.

I can hear Toby breathing into my ear- can feel the smell of alcohol and after- shave. But Toby doesn't say a word, he grabs my shirt- lifts me up and pull me with him to his car.

"NO TOBY." I scream- but we live in a cabin in the middle of a big forest- no one can hear me scream. "NO TOBY NO TOBY NO TOBY." I try to push him away- loosen myself from his grip- but he only grips harder. Then throws me on the floor in the backseat, and starts driving.

I get car- sick, and I have to use all my willpower to fight the urge to throw up- I know what's coming, wish that he'd never stop- if he never stop- then he won't hurt me- in a way that's too gruesome to mention.

He eventually stops the car- we have been riding the car for two hours, and the clock in the front tells me it's eleven P.M. It's dark outside- there's no street- lights. Toby takes his seatbelt off and climb back to me, he's already pulled his jeans down, and he does the same with my pair of sweat pants. He starts putting his hands on me-under my shirt, on my neck and face and then it's time- and it hurts so much.

It feels like hours before he's done, then finally lets go of me, and climbs out of the car. He leaves me there on the floor. After he's gone- I turn my head to see on the clock that reads 12: 03, it's three minutes past midnight.

I wait for half an hour, an hour, but Toby still isn't coming back, I know it can be up to two days before he come back- that's how long he's left me for once before- and he wasn't half as cross with me then as he was this time.

After some while I pull myself up to look out the window- it's still pitch dark outside. Out there there's a whole world- and I question myself if I'm ever coming out to see it again, as I lay back down.

Is it worth taking the risk? If Toby finds me again then he'll kill me!

When it's just over six in the morning- 6:19 to be more exact, I- Caitlyn July Romero- thirteen years old- decide that it's worth taking a risk- it's not like I've got anything to lose- so quietly, I climb out of the car and start running through the trees.

Maybe, if I just keep running fast and long enough- I will find something or someone- what I am looking for I'm not so sure- but I know one thing- I need to get away from Toby. Even though it will cost me my life if he finds me again.

So, that's the prologue. What you think?

Listen here, this story is written with quite more mature stuff than I usually write about. I have rated it- and if you choose not to respect that it's your choice- I can only say that if you're under a certain age- please do not read- and if you don't like this- do not read it.

English is not my first language- and I didn't have no internet- therefore no Google translate for writing this