Oh oh oh! Pick me! I have some stories!
First story; I ran away from home a few years ago, about a week before my 18th birthday. I had police looking for me, but I had exactly a week to stay
under the radar before I was legally allowed to go where ever I pleased. So, my ex's mom took me in for a short amount of time, and my ex and I stayed
in a little rv behind her store for a few days. We were staying in a town where I used to live and go to school, so I knew my way around the place
In this little town was a place called the warehouse. It was a big abandoned (or so we thought) building, and it was AWESOME! It looked like something
straight out of the Fallout games! Crumbled sections of the place, monstrous holes and cave-ins in the ceiling, abandoned stuff... it looked like it
was hit with a bomb. The building was mostly in tact, but it was falling apart. No one had taken care of it in decades.
Everyone in town--meaning, the other teenagers I used to go to school with--visited this place all the time. So, naturally, I didn't think anything of
it. I was pretty sure the property was abandoned, or, at the very least, whoever owned it simply didn't care who came and went.
So, one night out of boredom, I dragged my ex to the warehouse to explore and play. Now, at this point, he and a few of our friends already visited
the place a few times earlier in the week, and I fell in love with the place.
We're there for about an hour, and a fat bald dude shows up with a flashlight and starts ordering us around, telling us that we're not allowed to
leave. Soon after, a scrawny dude with Aryan Brotherhood tattoos comes in and starts flipping open a pocketknife over and over again. The scrawny guy
approaches me and threatens to cut out my tongue.
At this point, I'm terrified, but I was surprised with my ability to maintain a calm composure. I smiled at him, trying to let him know he wasn't
scaring me (which wasn't true, haha). I had a pocketknife in my pocket, and my mind was suddenly racing with delusions about how I'd slice at him,
dart to the left, jump out the window, etc etc... it was some bizarre action movie-type stuff.
After the guy proceeds to threaten me some more, my ex is sitting on the other side of the room, saying nothing. He didn't stand up for me at all.
So, the bald guy calls his family over, and a fat chick strolls into the room with a few other people.
While they're talking to my ex, I flip out my tracphone and hide it by my side. I text my ex's mother and ask her to help us somehow.
She was there within the minute, I swear to God, I have no idea how she showed up so fast. She was, as I later learned, apparently packing heat and
prepared to shoot some bad guys.
So, we all had a long talk about not trespassing on other people's property, the entire time I'm dog-eyeing the bald guy like hell. I took full
responsibility, then stormed off.
I was so pissed. I was thoroughly convinced that the guys were going to kill us, and I was scared out of my mind, but I was ready to fight them. I was
also furious with my ex, because he was acting like the biggest damn coward I've ever seen in my life. He always liked to ramble about how he could
beat anyone in a fight, even though he'd only ever been in one fight all his life, and he got his ass handed to him. He also always told me, "I'll
never let anything happen to you." Yeah right. I saw his true colors that night.
Aaaaaanywho, as much as I hated the events of that night, I was rather grateful and impressed at my luck. We got away unscathed, and we didn't attract
any law-enforcement attention. All this happened while I was on the run.
Story 2 -
Shortly after the warehouse fiasco, on my 18th birthday, I learned that my father and stepmother were trying to have me put in jail (WTF?!). This hit
me harder than anything. I hadn't done anything to them. I'd barely even talked to them for the past three years.
It was later admitted that they were putting a restraining order on me in an attempt to keep my mother from getting custody of my two younger
siblings, who still lived with my father. My mother was about to apply for custody of them, and somehow this information leaked into my father's
family. In a last minute attempt to stop her, they manifested an INCREDIBLY backwards and morbid story about me in order to halt the custody
They made up stories about me abusing my stepbrother and stepsister as a kid, pulling knives on them, making them molest one another, sick things like
that. Honestly, I wasn't the most friendly kid in the world, but holy crap!
I would NEVER do the things they accused me of. NEVER IN A MILLION
So, my mother was unable to apply for custody, and I wasn't welcome in her house whenever my brother and sister were home. I was not allowed to see
For a year, I drifted from place to place, between my friend's house, my ex's place, and home. I had to stay on the move constantly because I had to
avoid crossing paths with my family, because if I did, I'd go to jail. It was the most miserable year of my life.
A few days after learning about this, everything seemed hazy to me. I could barely comprehend that my dad would do something so low. So, I went to a
4th of July party at my ex's sister's house, and I downed more alcohol than everyone else in the house combined. I took twelve shots of whiskey, and a
couple swigs of something else (I don't remember what), and I blacked out.
The next day, I felt terrible. I felt like I'd died. Everything was heavy, and my stomach felt incredibly sensitive. My ex was angry at me for being
so irresponsible (he didn't even try to understand why I was so careless and sad). He was the most judgmental person I ever knew, I swear... I know I
screwed up, but if someone I knew was doing something like that, I'd be more concerned than angry.
He proceeded to suggest that I was "just like everyone else" and that I'm weak for using a substance to escape my problems.
It was the first time I'd ever touched any hard liquor in my life! I never made a habit out of drinking. It was a one-time mistake!
So, I went back to my mother's house and separated myself from him for as long as possible.
Point being, I honestly think I died that night, and something brought me back.
Everyone was playing Rockband in the next room, and when I heard "Time of Dying" play, it was ringing through my head like an echo. It was the only
thing in my mind, and if that song hadn't been on, I honestly believe my brain would've shut down.
I have a couple other stories, one of them involving me getting run over by a police officer in an SUV, and one of them involving a drunken friend and
a lot of fighting and struggling... but I'm gonna stop. I've rambled enough.
My 21st birthday is just a couple weeks away.
Life should give me more fun stories soon.
edit on Xx12280830PM68 by XxNightAngelusxX because: (no reason given)