On The Streets

This story is just a little something I made after a dream. The night of this dream I was texting a friend and she was making up a story, to witch I would have to write one back. So as the messages continued I became obsessed over what to write about. I must of been really into the idea because I then had a dream, of witch I rarely have, and the entire way through the dream I would stop and say..."This would make a great story! I have to tell her!" So I did and she loved it! She begged for more chapters. And so I made three. I am continuing these and more will be added. Basically, this story is about a girl, at the age of sixteen turning seventeen on a search for answers. She has lived a hard life but remains put together, but she is willing to go through what ever may tear her apart to regain what she once had.

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3. June

Three weeks have passed and it's seven days untill my birthday. I've been thinking about my brother nonstop. It's not like he died. I don't have closer. I mean, it's very possible he's dead but then again what had happened was almost a complete mystery to me.

He was my idol. I looked up to him. Only two years older than me, we would do nearly everything together. We'd go fishing in the river behind Ben's apartment, sitting on the crumbling pavement, sizzling in mid-summer's heat. We'd catch nothing but blue gill all day and I still have some pictures of them. That's where we met Ben. Our first friend.

We were almost always alone, left to clean the house and feed our sick mom and tend to the already shriveled garden. My father left us when I was four and mother soon got sick from depression and cirrhosis. She began to smoke and her heart condition began to spiral out of control.

When my brother turned eighteen he took over the house and took me in for as long as possible till I got a job and got myself into a better situation. No doubt my brother was smarter but he couldn't go to school because he had the house to look after. So he helped me in the morning and I left for school. My shoes where used to the last strand of their paper thin souls. He worked extremely hard to buy me new ones. And I came home as quickly as possible every day to clean with him and teach him what was taught that day.

As soon as I was fourteen I got a job but maintained school so I could help buy us a new home or atleast help get better things. I finally had enough to move us both out at sixteen. Mom died soon after it was terrible for the two of us. We had moved into a small apartment behind an extremely noisy construction site. And my brother, who took the most in life and shielded me from the terrible world and its disgusting ways curled into a ball and cried to sleep in my arms. I felt terrible. Guilty almost, for not doing more for him in the past. I was too busy in school and was not going to ever be able to afford college, so what's the point? I cried with him one night. I let it all loose. The neighbors called the cops. They could never understand.

This June tenth will be my first birthday on my own. My brother left me with a brand new fishing rod before he went missing. That's all I have left.

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