Fun

Loving

Caring

Care free

He thought of all of those and scoffed as he counted the 27 pills one by one.

He had to do this quick. Someone might catch him. And he didn't want that.

It all started when he was about 7. He killed his mom, didn't know where his dad was. His aunt just gave him up. And the foster families had been creul, abusive, and just cold hearted.

He didn't care for it. So he did why he was good at.

Running

Then he came to had friends. But they slowly left him. One by one. They wouldn't care much. Maybe for a week. Maybe two. But they would forget. They always did.

He looked around popping five pills in his mouth. He had popped pills before. The adrenalin rushed through him. He loved it. He just did it when he was mad too. It helped. Thank gods for the infirmary. A couple "injuries" and he got enough. Well he hoped anyways.

He popped in seven more. Looked around a little more. Then laughed at himself. Why did he care I anyone saw him? He would always find another way.

Well we could start with the pity looks. The soft voices. And the confusion. Good enough reasons for him to keep going. So he did. They would never find him. It was 3:27 in the morning. Who would be up?

They could get a new repair man. Enough kids can fix kids were funny, they would find more entertainment.

He put six more in. His vision blurred a bit. He looked up to think. Then popped four more in laughing sticking his middle finger up to the sky. The sky grumbled as a response.

" no one cares" he murmured

He only had five left to be free.

He smiled at the thought.

He had thought of this a lot actually. Anywhere he went he would think how would it be easiest in this spot?

He always thought of a good was always falling, or drowning, even stabbing.

He thought of other was as He put the last five in. He only had a few minuets. So he just sat and thought of everything that he did that was his fault.

Too many in less then enough of time.

So he counted his scars instead.

He counted 257 on his legs, stomach, and arms combined. He grinned. They all had a story with it. They all were just showing his failures. Every one with the same exact knife. Oh how much joy it brought him.

Then he puked. It was all blood too. Just a puddle of deep red blood. Ad he did continuously. Just made the puddle bigger and bigger.

But honestly This was just another run away. But this was a run away from life. He did at least accomplish one thing in his life that he wanted. That's one less scar.