The ‘Christian’ Home for Teens (part 3) The Scheme

It wasn't until I made searing contact that I realized it was actually a rosebush. I hit the ground, torn and bleeding but free. I didn't have time to feel pain or check my wounds, but I felt a large cut behind my ear and blood dripped from my pantleg cuff. Flesh wounds, I thought, trying to muster all my bad-assery. I crept around the house, reached under the steps for my shoes and when I grabbed them I began to run.

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I had triumphed over sadistic staff members, beaten grave illness and stood up to my father in these clothes, but as I removed them, I saw them for what they were: rags.

Runaway Attempt #3

I breathed in the cold Michigan air and whooped. It was a pretty sad celebration going from a dysfunctional home for teen girls to the streets on a cold fall night, but at that point, I took what I could get. I began to run.

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