There was no hope for him. He would never be like his friends. He was never sheltered from all the bad. He was trapped, and always alone. It's not that he like being alone. He just figured it was for the best.
Drip
He hears the water drop from the sky somewhere. He looks around trying to find where the water came from. He looks up to find out it was raining, but it still reminded him of something. Something he thought was buried in the past, where he would never see it again. It reminds him of the dripping which only occurred in the sewers. He thinks about the first he was in a sewer. The time he first ran away from his foster home. The first time he was ever really alone.
He was racing, as fast as his body could. He wanted to get away from this place as fast as he could. He wanted away from all those children, the one's that just wouldn't leave him alone. He wanted the adults to actually care about him, not feel like he was a burden that they needed to carry. He just wanted some place to call home, not a foster home or children's home, a real honest to god home. That's all he that really wanted at that moment.
He picked up speed as he started down the street. Sometime soon they would find out he wasn't really in a shower. They would look all around the house and find him nowhere. They would call 911 or the police and have everyone looking for him. The problem for him was he didn't want to be found. He never wanted to be found.
He turned around to see the house he was leaving. He looked and had no pity for them. They would still get their money even though he was gone. They wouldn't care anyway, the only reason he was placed in this house was because they couldn't find him a place. Now they didn't need to place him anymore, because his place was on the streets, that is where he lived.
He didn't need anyone to take care of him anymore; he could take care of himself. He didn't need friends, they were just a waste of time, just an extra part of your life you don't need. All he needed was to run.
He ran faster, going as fast as he could. His lungs felt like they were going to explode. His legs were bursting with pain. Then he reminds himself, pain was just a way of showing improvement. A way that showed you, you were doing this right.
At this point he was out of the neighborhood. He hadn't gotten the chance to Google directions, not like he had a destination in mind anyway. He looked both ways; he saw cars coming from both directions. He had to wait, but he didn't have the time to wait. He had to go now, get away from here before they noticed. He was starting to panic, he couldn't be caught. It wouldn't end well.
He made his choice, he ran into traffic. He knew it probably wouldn't end well, but that feeling, panic, made him move. He didn't ever want to feel that feeling again. That feeling changed his life, and never went away.
He fled through traffic. The first lane wasn't so hard. The driver stopped, before he hit him. The second lane wasn't that great. He barely missed being hit. The third and last lane was the worst.
As he entered the lane, a car came straight at him, and there was no time for the driver to hit the breaks. The car hit him head on. Pain shot through him as he was thrown five feet in the air, landing a few feet back. He looked at himself. He had the biggest headache ever. It was like someone drilling into his head, with a needle, over and over again. His feet felt like he had been walking for miles without stopping. His arms were bloody and bruised, which freaked him out. His chest was the worst. He was pretty sure he cracked a rib. His chest had a large cut, bleeding out.
The driver came over in a mad panic, he looked so guilty. It wasn't his fault, it was just an accident. He looked at him for a minute, looking him over to see what the damage was. He had a tear coming out of his eye.
"Don't worry, I'll call 911." The man said pulling out his cell phone. His hand shook as he punched the number in.
"Don't" The boy breathed. "Please don't"
"Don't what? Are you feeling ok? How hard did you hit your head?" The man asked in a rush.
"Don't call them." The boy murmured.
The man stared at him in shock. The boy was standing up, wincing as he did. He then began to walk away. "Why won't you let me call for help?" The man asked him. Giving him a curious look. "You must've hit your head pretty hard."
"I'm a run away. Just leave it at that." The boy said walking away.
As the man stood in shock, the boy walked away. He would never be seen again by the man.
He continued on, slower, but still moving. He would have to find shelter soon. The sun would come out soon; everyone would be able to see him. He didn't need that at the moment. He would rather stay missing for a little bit.
He could hear two voices. One was a male, maybe fifteen, and a female also fifteen. The voices were far away, as if from a different world. They seemed to be fighting over something. He had no idea what, but it sound like it was about him.
"What's wrong with him, Jason?" The female asked. "He looks like he's staring at space, but he's been that way for an hour." He couldn't see them, but by his guess, they were talking about him.
"Piper, I don't know. He might be sleeping." The boy said. The voices seemed to dissipate into thin air.
He walked around in the shadows, not sure which direction to go in. He wanted to head south, to get out of this state. That way they couldn't find him, but he didn't know which way was south, and he didn't feel like asking someone. They would just question why he was out this late at night, and why he was blessing. It wouldn't help him at all; only hurt him in the long haul. Which he didn't need at the moment.
He started to run, not caring about the burning feeling in his chest. Forgetting the pain, he forged forward. He didn't have a care in the world; he just focused on running, and only running. His arms began to burn while he ran. The wind was splattering the blood everywhere. He wasn't losing too much blood, but it went in all different directions. It made the place look like a murder scene. People would most defiantly call the police when they woke up. All panicking about someone being killed in front of their home, or whatever the building was. He couldn't read the sign or see what it was.
He ran across the road, getting away from the bloodied street. Blood now covered his shirt in a circle like fashion. He kept running though, making this side of the street red as well. He ran till he started to notice it again, wondering if it would stop. Would he die of blood loss? After a while he thought about switching sides again, and he did. He kept switching sides for an hour or so, when the bleeding stopped.
He looked back one more time to see the mess. The sidewalks had red spots everywhere, like a clowns cloths would look like at the circus. It was on both sides of the streets, making it looked like someone spray painted the sidewalks that way. It gave him a cold feeling, or maybe it was the blood missing from his body. Either way, he was really cold. He hadn't brought anything, not wanting to be held back.
He rubbed his hands away, shooting pain was his reward. He was starting to regret not going to the hospital after all. At least he wouldn't be in so much pain, or losing so much blood. It made him want to cry.
He wouldn't though, he hadn't cried since the accident, and he wasn't going to start. He was stronger than this, and he knew it. If he cried it would show regret, and he nothing to regret in his new life. His new life wouldn't be as painful as the last.
Drip
He started to question everything. His plan was ruined; there was no way he could go on like this. The pain was too great, he would get caught. He shook his head. He needed to think more positive than that.
He had gotten out of that house without one problem. Why couldn't he do this? It seemed so easy, so why couldn't he do this? He needed to stop questioning himself, he would never get far if he continued.
He looked around, and then he saw it. A place he could stay for a while. The sewer was a perfect place. No one went down there; he would be safe for now. He ran towards it, wanting to be away from the rising sun. He climbed the ladder down. He headed over to the corner, and propped himself against the wall. He could feel the hard rock against his back. It felt great!
He set a fire, with his hands, and felt the warmth. The cold, from whatever, was gone now. He sat down again and looked up. Only one word popped up in his mind at that moment.
Home
He opened his eyes, blinking at first. He saw two figures sitting next to him. One was a blond boy, Jason, and the other was pretty girl, Piper. They both kept looking at him, as if he had just fallen from the sky.
"What happened to you, Leo?" Jason asked him.
"Memories"