Love

Love.

Love is the most precous thing anyone can ask for. To no that there is someone out there who spends every second of their day thinging about you, anticipating for the next time that they can set their eyes on you.

Its has been a long time for me. I bearly remeber what it feels like for some one to love you, this its my story...

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1. My past

 

I was 13. It all happened so fast. I was so confused. I often question myself on weather i should of stayed or if i did the right thing by running away. If i did stay, I'd be like them, long dead and probably rotted in the ground in some old graveyard in the middle of France.

My family and I liked to travel, thats why they were buried in france, where it all happened. I still remeber the day 24th of april. there anniversary. They had left my in the apartment we had rented on our annual holidays to lyon in france. They had gone out for a fancy dinner whilst I sat on the couch watching friends. 

The phone rang. It was probably them checking if I was alright. I answered and a man with a rusty french accent struggling to speak english was on the other end.

"Bonjour, I am sorry to disturb you but this is the police department you father and mother have been in an accident, i am afraid they are dead. The driver behind them crashed in to them and the car flipped over, they died instanly"

I hung up. My father was a bankrupt busness man that found out something he shouldnt of known. I knew this was no "accident" they warned him. They were coming for me. I had to act quickly. I packed a bag full of food, I knew id be gone probably never to return. Trust me clothes was the last thing on my mind. I went in to the room my parents had been sleeping in and pulled out a small suitcase from under the bed. Dads money. 

He had never trusted banks so kept his money in cash and it came with us when we travelled. I picked up the suitace and grabbed my blue school bag which i had filled up with food and went out the door. There i was. Alone. On the unfamiliar streets of lyon.

The news hadn't fully sunken in. My parents were dead, I knew they were coming after me. I couldn't go to any relitives because I knew that would put them in danger. I stoped thinking about my situation ans started thinking of where to go. A car pulled up. It was them. 

I ran as fast as my legs would take me, through the dimly lit street full of semi-detatched houses filled with familys enjoying there evening blissfully unaware of what was happening outside there warm, cozy houses.

The forest! I spent my childhood in the apartment we had in Lyon and i ofter played in the forest before we moved to Wales when i was six. I knew the forest like th back of my hand, they were no match for me.

I could hear their foot steps behind me they had broken from and brisk walk to a sprint when they had spoted me. I climbed up my favourite willow tree in the middle of the forest. I heard them below me conversing between themselves saying how the boss was going to kill them that they let me get away. I held my breathe until the voices had stoped and I heard the engine of a yellow mini purr and then they were gone.

What now? 

 

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