I ran away at age ten. I was sick of my father hitting me. My mother did nothing to stop him. She was too busy being wasted and selling her body out with the knowledge of my dad. He didn't care. He was having an affair himself. I felt as if I were the only person in my family with morals.
I didn't live a luxurious life. Not at all. I was born in the slums of one of Irk's top ten most dangerous cities, Dahtroy in the country of The United Provinces of Irk. Every morning on the news you hear of someone getting stabbed. Someone getting raped. Someone getting murdered. Not out of the ordinary here. It should of scared me but I was raised with it. I wasn't even scared when I saw the police drag my neighbor's dead body out of his home years ago. I guess it was because I have enough to worry about. I was unlucky enough not to go to school. My parents never bothered to enroll me. Not even into a public academy where there was no tuition and the federal government funded the school. They didn't care about me or they forgot all about me. They usually were either high or drunk as fuck.
I remember the first time my dad hit me. Typical kids would be too young to remember, but I recall it perfectly. I was five. Even at the age of five I knew better than to bother my parents but on this particular day, I was feeling defiant. When my father told me, "Red, I want you outta here for a few days." for God knows why, I refused. It was winter, a thick blanket of snow was covering the ground, and the homeless were jumping people to strip them of their clothes so they could take and wear the articles for themselves. My father wasn't pleased at all when I disobeyed. He raised his hand, a bulky ring on his finger, and backhanded me. Right across the face. It knocked me to the ground. A deep gouge in my cheek. I have the scar to this day. Practically everyday since then, I'd get at least one form of physical abuse from him. Sometimes my mother would repeat his actions. Five years. I lived with that torment for five years until I decided enough was enough. I fled the city. I even fled the country, completely unaware of what I was getting myself into.
To this day I'm not exactly sure if I regret my decision for running away or not. I do know however, that on that day I left, one of my problems were gone. But at the same time, another problem emerged.