More fiction writing vomit.
No editing or planning. Just makin’ crap up as I go. 🙂 Have fun.
I walked down the street to the treatment center I was going to stay at. I felt all gross and lonely inside. I walked in the front door. You’re not allowed to do so as a kid, but I didn’t want to set off the alarms from opening the back doors. It was about 9:00pm and there weren’t kids in the day room. I said hello to the staff members and told them I was turning myself in.
“What? You were a runaway? I didn’t even know…” The staff led me into the office and we called Foster Parent.
How did they not know? Wasn’t my foster parent, the guy who owned the whole treatment center I was standing in, raising hell over my absence? He was harassing everybody I knew, and chased after every house that I might have ever crossed. Feel the love…
I was driven up the street to my foster parent’s house to pick up some clothes, which is exactly what I had planned on. I grabbed hygiene products, such as toothpaste, toothbrush, and body wash. All were things I shouldn’t have forgotten in the first place. Yet again, I did not plan my little AWOL out very well.
Foster parent and staff member talked for about half of an hour, and I talked to my best friend who was at the house at the time. I stole a piece of pizza from the fridge. We talked about my plan and how I was just restocking to run again, and she laughed at me, saying that I was a boss for what I was totally following through with.
It was easier than stealing candy from an anorexic vegan, and I walked out of the house with one bag of my necessities.
I slept on the floor because of the lack of bedding, and I had the most obnoxious little roommate. She was loud, and thought that it was okay to keep the exhausted runaway awake. I fed her some shit about what I did while I was out, about how I left town and killed a lion with my thumb and how I had a dinosaur egg in my bag. She was actually a pretty mean little shit to my sister, so she was not on my good side. Lets call her Emily, as that is a generic name.
The other person was an old friend. We had been in treatment together before and I was one of the few people who had been nice to her. I thought she was a holler to be around. 🙂
I slept and then slept in late. About 5:45am. We had to get up at 5:30. I didn’t. I didn’t eat, as that was my rebellion stance, and did my assigned chore. And I slept. We had a group meeting in the morning, run by my foster parent, and then I went to school.
I will skip all of the boring stuff, and go on to the next day. I met with foster parent and my therapist. We planned on meeting again to decide when I was leaving, and they thought that a week in the facility was a substantial consequence. I said okay. I honestly didn’t think that I was going to be let back into the house, as I was very clearly kicked out. But whatever. They didn’t want to look bad.
I decided to stay, because BF was homeless and didn’t want to deal with hiding me. I said okay to that too. He took $150 off of my debit card without asking, but that was to keep his place at a friend’s house. A shit house. Drugs and drinking. I hated that he had to stay there, but I had to not care and give him choices, because that is exactly why he broke up with his ex. ^-^ It is so much easier to not care.
I saw him later on while I was on a recreational activity with my staff members and peers. XD (We went to the gym.) I walked around the track with him and talked about what he had been up to. We didn’t talk about me because the treatment life is more than predictable, and he was the one with the life.
Skipping past even more boring stuff, I got my iPhone taken away. That little shit Emily ratted me out. It’s not like I told her I had it, but she did go through my stuff.
Still on my toes, I kept my stuff packed and hung in the hallway to be ready to run if the situation changed in any way. It didn’t.
The morning of my return home I called BF. Well, I tried, but his phone was off. I don’t leave messages, so I just told the staff that my mother was probably asleep. I wasn’t going to ask if I was allowed to call him, so I said I was calling mother instead.
I got to go home later in, and it was terribly awkward. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and I was merely asked to come over to help with dinner. I took a shower first thing, and washed my dreads. It had been two weeks! At least I know that I have the option to not wash my hair if need be.
I started a load of laundry, and avoided everybody. That wasn’t hard though, because everybody was on pass to see their real family. They weren’t stuck.
I read the first couple of chapters of Fifty Shades of Grey, and decided that it was extremely boring. I read a book about a crack head instead. Watched YouTube, and then watched TV.
That’s all for today folks. I am pretty sure that I am done writing about this too, as it is no fun to talk about anymore. 🙂 Thank you for reading, and have a good day.