My story started with the honking of a truck. Actually, that's a total lie. You caught me. I know, I know, why record your story if you won't even tell the truth? Well, sorry. Lying is in my blood now, it's been my safety net for years and years. Anyways, I will try to tell you the truth, the whole truth, but it certainly won't be nothing but the truth. It's up to you to choose what you believe. Now let's get started, for real this time.

My story actually started with the sound of rushing water. I was ten, I think, and it was my turn to clean the dishes. Now, being ten, I didn't understand why my mum was so upset that day. She had called into work sick, which she rarely did, and spent the day packing. Around 5 in the evening, the phone rang. It was my dad, I knew, I recognized his voice. But why was Mum crying? She only cried when she and Da were having a fight.

I turned the water off to better hear what they were saying, putting the stool under the sink and sneaking to the corner by the phone. "Ja-" "Don't say my name!" My da reminded her forcefully, which only made her cry more. "Get the kids ready, okay? I love you." The definitive click, as he hung up, seemed to echo throughout the house. "I love you too.." Mum whispered, replacing the phone on the hook.

Turning to me, she wiped her eyes and tried for a smile, eyes bleak even as her lips curved upwards. "Honey, why don't you make sure your little sister is out of the bath? Put on your warmest clothes, too." I nodded, knowing that I needed to hurry, though I didn't know why. Before racing up the stairs, I turned to look at Mum. She was leaning against the wall, chest barely rising and falling, hands covering her face as tears ran down her wrists. I ran back to her, throwing my arms around her waist. "Don't cry, Mummy." I think I said, squeezing once before I ran upstairs.

By the time I had gotten my sister and I clothed in our warmest, tennis shoes on our feet and hats on our head, Mum had collected all of the things she had packed earlier in the day and set them out, according to who would carry what. I knew we were leaving, yet I wasn't scared. I wasn't sure I felt anything, I just knew that my compliance was vital to our success in whatever Mum and Da had planned. My two other sisters and brother were already downstairs, also clothed warmly. It was eerily quiet; I could barely hear the sound of their rapid breath.

"Good, you're ready." Mum broke the silence, succeeding a little better at a reassuring smile this time. I nodded, taking my sister's hand and leading her down the stairs, into the seemingly deathly silence. Being the nosy bugger I am, I wanted to know the plan. "So when are we leaving?" I asked, looking round the room at my seniors. My brother, mum, and one of my sisters stared, shocked, but the other older sister leaned forward, looking into my eyes. I wasn't sure what she was looking for, so I simply stood there. "Soon." She finally replied, leaning back. I nodded again, and turned to button up my little sister's coat.

We sat there, in the parlor, for what seemed like an eternity. Peeking into my trunk, I saw that it was mostly food I would be carrying. I didn't know why at the time, but that seemed to make perfect sense. No, I'm not saying I was a wise little ten year old, ya smart aleck. I'm saying that for some reason, none of this seemed strange. It seemed to make perfect sense, at least in my head, that we would be leaving, in our warmest clothes, carrying trunks of food and other such things, on that particular night.

After forever in the deafening silence, I heard the click of the lock. It was then that I discovered what Mum had been playing with in her lap during our vigil. It was a revolver. She drew it, creeping to the door, just as it swung open, revealing my da. She sighed in relief, lowering the gun. I had crept to the door behind her, and I gently tugged it from her loose grasp so she could hug Da like she always did when he came home. The deadly weapon felt at home in my ten year old hands, and I thought it not the least bit strange. Huh, guess I was a natural born killer even then. I'm kidding, jeez. If you think this part is scary, you don't want to hear the rest. Now be quiet so I can finish, I still have to get some sleep tonight and I can't if you're always interrupting.

Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, I was holding a gun. Well, though it seemed natural to me, I caught my brother and older sister giving me a horrified look as I fiddled with the revolver. Yes, I made sure the safety was on, nitwit. I wasn't stupid. My mum was holding onto to Da for a long time, giving me the chance to memorize the parts of the revolver. It probably seems weird to you softies, but I had already learned some things about guns when I was young. Used to read my da's old magazines when I hung out in his office while he was at work.

When Mum finally let go of Da, I took her hand in my little one and curled her fingers around the gun, smiling in a reassuring sort of way up at her. She got this weird look in her eyes as she took it, though I didn't know why. My da patted me on the head, before facing the rest of my siblings. "Now, I know you're probably all scared and confused, but your mum and I will explain on the train." He told us, grabbing the trunk Mum had packed for him. Taking this as a cue to pick up our own trunks, we lined up behind Da, littlest in the middle and oldest in the front and back, Mum taking up the rear.

"Remember, no one talks. No one gives out information, don't even say hello." We all nodded, silent as mice. As Da opened the door, I snuck a look around the house. I'm not sure if I was checking if anything was missing, or if I was memorizing it since I didn't think I would ever see it again. I don't know. What I do know, is that when the door clicked closed, Mum locked it, and tucked the key away, I had felt no sense of loss. Even as a tear or two slipped down my siblings' faces, I was looking around at the world. It was so dark, yet the city lights blinded me for a moment.

So yeah. That night was the beginning of the end for us. Ah, smart kid. You're right, I never used any names. That was on purpose. You see, names have power. If you give someone your name, you're giving them a part of yourself, a means to find you, a way to get information. And if you look around, kid, you may notice that I'm not exactly living in a five-star hotel. It would be too easy to find someone in a hotel, too few places to run. That's why I live in the streets. Plenty of places to go and plenty of ways to get there. Now, run home. Scat.

No, I'm won't answer 'one more question'. If you want to hear more, come back tomorrow. Yeah, yeah, goodnight. Now go.