"Look, John, I know you want her to stay simply because she needs a home, but I don't want her here, alright? I don't care if she's our daughter's friend. I don't care if she has no family. I want her gone."

I stayed quiet as I listened to the words my friend's mother told her husband. It really hit close to home, but by this point I was used to it.

"Honey, please, just let her stay a little longer, alright?" John tried to persuade. "A few more days at least—"

"No, I want her gone tomorrow!" Rebecca snapped. "She has no place here."

I flinched. I had no place anywhere, really, but I at least thought I could make some sort of a home at my friend's. Though... she always mentioned how her mother hated visitors. I should have just not come.

I backed up into the dark hallway. I could feel the negativity boiling up inside me. I had to leave. I had to runaway again, just like I had from my home. My old home.

I backed up further and accidentally bumped into a small table near the wall. The vase sitting on it toppled over and I quickly caught it with a gasp.

The two voices in the kitchen silenced.

A bead of sweat trickled down my temple and I set it back up, then bolted as silently as I could to my friend's room.

I quietly shut the door behind me and breathed a little. Thankfully Hazel was still sleeping. I dove for my own makeshift bed on the floor and looked like I was sleeping just mere seconds before the door opened again. I tried to steady my breathing as much as possible so it didn't look like I had just ran in terror of being caught eavesdropping.

I could sense both parents were standing at the door, but neither said anything nor did anything. It was a good few minutes before I heard the door shut though.

I sighed softly. Then after a moment of replaying the conversation in my head, I silently started to cry.

You see, I had ran away from home a few weeks ago, feeling as though my parents didn't want me. Which, since they didn't seem to give two shits whether I lived or died, was understandable. And now I was facing the same issue with my friend's parents, even though they knew the whole story.

Er, well, John didn't mind me staying. It was Rebecca, but... anyway...

I really didn't know what to do at this point. All my life I had suffered with depression, and after finally thinking I was safe, here I am again, feeling worthless, unloved, and unwanted. I might as well pack my shit and leave tonight, shouldn't I?


Yeah I think that's what I'll do.

After composing myself and wiping my tears, I looked up at Hazel. She was still fast asleep. As was her dog, Texas.

I felt my heart ache. I guess I didn't really believe she wanted me here either.

I started to gather my things in my backpack: Chargers, computers, phone, clothes, and everything I had brought with me from my parents.

I waited for a long time, into the wee hours of the morning, just to make sure Hazel's parents were asleep.

Then I made my getaway.

I snuck out of Hazel's room and back down the hall. I looked into the darkened kitchen to find no one, and slipped inside. I glanced through their cabinets, taking only a few cans of food that would last me a few days.

"What are you doing?" a male voice behind me said. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“I—I, um…” I stuttered, seeing it was Chris, Hazel’s brother. “Was getting a glass of water?” I said with clear uncertainty.

“Why do you have your backpack?” Chris asked.

“I’m... I’m...” I trailed off. He looked at me drowsily, but there was clear curiosity in his eyes.

“I’m running away...” I mumbled.

“Again? But why? Don’t you like it here?” Chris asked, looking concerned then. And somewhat... worried?

I stayed quiet for a moment. “It’s not that. It’s just... nobody wants me here... I’m just another mouth to feed.”

Chris watched me quietly.

“But... I want you here,” he said after a brief pause. “And Hazel wants you here.”

I stayed silent and shrugged. I didn’t look at him.

“And as far as I know, so do mom and dad.”

I flinched.

Chris paused.

“Did you overhear them say something?” Chris asked softly.

I didn't reply. I felt so guilty and so horrible. I blinked away the tears and just turned my head.

"Eliza..." Chris persuaded.

"N—no..." I stammered. "I can just tell. I can always tell when I'm not wanted," I said, starting for the door.

"Eliza wait—"

I opened it when he grabbed my arm, but I pulled away and ran out into the snow.

"Eliza!!!" Chris yelled. "Eliza, come back, it's freezing!"

I kept running, not even daring to look back. I tried to keep the tears at bay, but they just flowed down my face, freezing themselves as they went. But I didn't care.

I just knew I had to run.

I had to get away.

Nobody wanted me.


AN: Hi! I just wrote this as a spur of the moment type thing; sometimes writing helps me convey emotions more than art does.

I’m not sure if I’ll continue it, and I’m a bit shy to post it, but here you go!

I’m not sure if it works as a beginning or a middle, but it’s something!

I may write more things like this in the future, it's quite therapeutic for me.

How does it work?
Read next: 'Chocolate Kisses'
Cierra Harkness

Hello! Call me Starr! I'm 18 years old, an artist and animator! I'll probably mostly write about the easiest ways to draw that I've learned over the years! I apologize if my teaching isn't the best though!

See all posts by Cierra Harkness