I'm a Runaway

I ran away from home at age nine; I was always an unhappy child with abusive parents and
no friends. I remember the day I left clearly...

--flashback--

I sat on the couch as mom and dad shouted at eachother. I was near tears, but held them in.
I was sick and tired of their verbal and physical arguments. I don't think they even knew I was
listening...
Glass smashed and dad smacked mom in the face. I cringed, and wanted to stop the scene
before me. But what could I do? I was small and fragile. I hated the mess which I called 'life'.

it was 11:57 p.m. Dad fell asleep, drunk on the couch with mom. I packed a few dirty, stained
and holed clothing in the small grocery store bag. I tied my shoes, took one last look, and left
without a single word; I trudged through the streets, cold and alone. I walked to the 'open all day and night' diner.

I seated on the small stool. No one was there except the workers. The cashier stared at me but didn't
ask questions except, "What would you like?" I looked at the menu. "Can I have some fries?"
I asked.

I waited when a man brought me a small bag of fries. When he turned, I made a run for it...
"Hey!" the guy shouted when he heard the see-through door slam and me running, while
eating a fry.

That's mainly how I got my food, stealing from either gas stations or diners or a fast food
place. I slept on benches at parks for days...I am a runaway.