The screams were getting louder. Glass smashed and tables fell. I couldn't take it anymore. Sliding my backpack out from underneath my cot, I stuffed it with the necessities - granola bars, extra clothing, money. I would find a way to make it work once I ran out of supplies. 

I grabbed my Ipod and started for the door. I paused. This was really happening. Again, I was running. How much longer could I do this? I looked around my room for the last time. True, it had only been mine for 8 months, but it was the only home I had. My eyes landed on the one thing I hadn't packed. The one thing that gave me hope at each new home. A photo of a small girl, brown frizzy pigtails sticking out at odd angles, wrapped up between two beaming parents. It was a sunny day when the picture had been taken. They all looked so happy. 

Without realizing what I was doing, I picked up the photo and threw it at the ground with all my might. The glass casing shattered, leaving sparkling fragments scattered across the concrete floor. The shards glinted, mocking me.

"What you used to have." They seemed to say.

"All that love. Taken from you."

The memories began to come.

"Don't hurt mommy!" The little girl cried.

"RUN Ellie!" A woman's voice screamed.

"BANG!" The woman was on the ground at the girl's feet, dead.

"No!" I had to make it stop! I picked up one of the shards, slicing it across my forearm. 

Seeing my blood on the floor jerked me back to reality. Tears pouring down my face, I picked up the photo, brushing glass off the paper. I shoved it inside my backpack. Below me, the fighting continued. I went downstairs, grabbed my umbrella, and ran out into the pouring rain. My foster parents didn't notice. None of them ever did.

Thoughts? I know it's sad, but I'm trying to help people understand the pain and self conflict others face, and the motives behind people's actions. Don't judge other people by what they do, till you know their story, and have experienced what they have. You haven't and don't want to? Don't judge them then.