The fourth time Leo Valdez ran away, he was getting as rebellious as the kids he had run away with. He was tired of being dragged through the Foster Care System. He was tired of all the patronizing, condescending, pitying, disgusted looks he received. He wasn't going through any phase. No. He had known this from the beginning, but now he seemed to truly acknowledge and understand that he simply wasn't important.
He wasn't particularly fond of anyone there, so it was an easy escape. He had his supplies ready and packed, so he walked out of the door.
It was cold and cloudy, the sky looking inky black and ominous. Wind whistled past his face, lifting his curly hair all over his eyes. He really needed a haircut.
He walked down the street, his foot-steps somehow synced with the hits of thunder. He promised he wouldn't, but he looked back.
It was another forgettable house in another forgettable place filled with forgettable people.
Goodbye, he thought.