Behind this oversized, hooded sweatshirt I’m awake, but for some sick reason I wanted them to think I was sleeping. Matter of fact, maybe I wanted them to think I was dead. Another penny hit me in the head a few inches from the spot where the previous one had. Part of me wished they would throw a large wad of bills, even if it would leave a welt on my leg where it impacted. A few of their friends got tired of throwing the pennies and started walking away.

“Crazy ass bitch!” and they were gone. I waited a minute or so longer and then opened my eyes. The salt from my tears stung inside the scratches on my face. I looked around the cement below and found mostly pennies, but there were a few nickels. It was time for me to go back to the abandoned building now that the sun was up. Actually, it had probably been up for a while now; I noticed my arms were a bit sunburned again. I stood up slowly, using the wall behind me for support, and brought myself to an upright position. The pain in my back was almost unbearable. Sleeping in this awkward position for so many nights had finally taken its toll. Aside from the back problem I had mosquito bites all over my legs where my shorts didn’t cover and lots of bruises. I examined the bruises that were slowly fading from purple to yellow on my arms. The one on my right forearm still resembled a hand mark. I forced a smile towards it, reminding myself I was better off now than I before.

I grabbed the coins off the ground and stuffed them into a change purse I had found on the ground weeks ago. My blue blanket, with stains I had learned to ignore, was still folded up inside my backpack. I picked it up and threw it over my shoulder only to feel twenty pounds heavier. I must have only weighed a hundred pounds myself, if that, but the clothes I wore disguised the hideous skeleton of a body I had now. Dad always told me I had a beautiful body, as most dads do. I remember nights when he would tuck me into my bed covered with a Disney Princess quilt and kiss me on the forehead and say I was the prettiest little girl in the whole world. Sometimes he read me stories, and a lot of the time he would lay down next to me and we’d fall asleep together. But that was a long, long time ago; a lot has changed since then.

I started walking down the alley towards a nearby building that was currently being renovated. For some reason people with fancy cars liked to drive down these alleys; it never made any sense to me. If I had a fancy car I’d ride down the busiest street in the city and drive extra slow. The smell of the alley didn’t get to me anymore. The only reason I remembered it was when the rich people walked by and remarked something about the stench; which usually ended with one look at me and then a cringe.

Up ahead there was a little girl skipping down the sidewalk with her mom walking along side, matching the distance of her daughter’s skips with her long strides. I smiled for them. I don’t smile at anyone anymore though. It’s not worth the bother; no one will even look me in the eyes now. They assume I’m going to ask them for something, but if only they could imagine what I would ask them for. Can I be your daughter for a day? Can I skip along side you, even for a few seconds? Can I hold on to your hand and smile up at you innocently like your child does? No, they wouldn’t know what to say to that. ‘Sorry, I can’t help you. Have a nice day. Here’s a dollar.’ I needed to reach the abandoned building before I started to think too much.

I turned the corner and walked a few more blocks before I got to the building. As usual the construction workers weren’t doing any work on the house. I slipped in through the gap in the chain link fence and ran up the stairs to the second floor where I slept. My book bag went to its usual spot in the corner where I pulled out my blanket and laid down on the carpet. It was covered in dust and paint chips but beyond that smell was a comforting, soothing smell. It’s that smell you can’t really describe by relating it to anything that already has a defined scent; it just makes you remember being inside a house with a nice bed and someone there to take care of you. It’s the smell you crave when you’re away at summer camp, not that I ever went to a camp, I just know if I was away from home for a month I would miss the smell terribly.

I was sitting on one of those high stools in my kitchen back in Georgia. I remember thinking I was incredibly high up, and that if I fell from here I might break my leg, so I was clutching on to the seat tightly and had my legs wrapped around the stool. My best friend Marla was next to me sitting on a regular chair, a piece of cake in front of her; which she was eating with her fingers of course. My dad stood against the wall talking to a tall blonde haired lady. She was beautiful; long, shiny hair, tall, and had the most amazing blue eyes. She wasn’t my mother, but I called her that. Her name was actually Sarah, Dad’s girlfriend. Sarah smiled widely and let out a laugh. Dad kissed her on the cheek and wrapped his arms around her waist. I was only six but I knew Dad loved her a lot, almost as much as he loved me, but not quite. He told me that all the time too.

Marla and I used to always play together when we were little. Once we got through the second grade we started being mischievous though. Most of our friends were boys. There was Kasey, Andrew, Jeremey, Rena, and Christian. At recess we would pretend we were all spies. Actually, it started out as Marla and I being spies in our own game, but everyone else wanted to join too. We made a laptop out of a notebook. We even drew all the keys and special buttons, like the Big Red Button; which of course said ‘do not push except in case of emergency’ on it. But by the end of second grade we realized Rena was a bitch, and we called her that too. At the time we thought bitch was a horrible word; if only we had discovered the word ‘cunt’ back then. Kasey was still cool; in fact we were both developing a crush on him. Jeremey moved away half way through the year, and Christian got held back.

That summer, after Marla and I had created a new game in which we were witches and had our own special language for spells, her parents came over for a big dinner. She arrived around dinner time, whenever that was, and ran over to me holding a present. Seeing as how we had already celebrated my birthday, and she wouldn’t be handing me a present if it was her birthday, I was confused. We both ripped it open together, things are much more fun when you have help, and inside was a teddy bear. A typical gift, but I loved it. Then she explained to me that they were moving the next day. She said they were going to Monroe, the county next to ours, but she’d be going to a different school. It didn’t really hit me that I missed her until I started third grade and realized everyone had only hung out with me because they liked Marla.

I felt myself dozing off while lying on the carpeted floor. I thought of how wonderful it would be to run into Marla now, and then stopped myself mid thought. Marla wouldn’t even recognize me now. Not even my voice was the same anymore. Breathing in the city’s polluted air and the fact that I hardly ever talked to anyone had caused my voice to be scratchy. I bet Marla was already a veterinarian at some brand new animal hospital somewhere, married with a big house. She always dreamed about that, and her parents were very strict about her homework and chores, so I’m sure she succeeded. If only I could’ve followed her back in second grade. What would be different now?

Third grade. We started to learn cursive the first half of the year. Sarah had already taught me a lot of cursive when I was in first grade because I always admired her perfect handwriting. I remember the signature on her driver’s license was so loopy and beautiful. So the work wasn’t very hard for me, work was never hard actually. I decided to take up swimming as a hobby since I had so much free time after homework. Swimming was fun; it came naturally to me, like walking. I started to compete in meets, which Sarah would take me to. Dad was always working when I had a meet, but he really enjoyed talking about how good I was at swimming. I kind of wondered how he knew that I was good since he never went to a single meet, but then again Sarah probably told him. And then all of a sudden, I got tired of swimming. I went to the pool and told my coach I was quitting. If only I could have marked that down as a sign for my future self. But I always finished my homework and projects on time, and never misunderstood anything my teachers taught me. In fact they put me in to a gifted program just to keep me challenged during school.

Sixth grade was the final year of elementary school. I had started to make more girl friends, but I was still hanging out with mostly boys; I was still the stereotypical tomboy. Near the end of the year we had a big field trip to Washington DC. Sarah and Dad had changed. Dad slept on the couch almost every night, and a few times I came home to Sarah watching TV crying, which was strange because I had never seen Sarah cry. The day the Greyhound busses pulled into the parking lot upon returning to Georgia from DC I remember looking for Sarah standing outside with the other parents picking up their kids, but I couldn’t find her. Then I looked for Dad even though I remember him saying he wouldn’t be able to make it because of work.

I got out of my friend’s car after we pulled into my driveway and lifted my suitcase from the trunk. There was a note on the door: “Sarah’s gone, I’m at work. Be home late. – dad”

Now I was asleep. My mind skipped from the cognitive thoughts I had been having to the dream it always went to every time I fell asleep. It used to frighten me, but now it’s almost like seeing a horror movie so many times you know what to expect so it doesn’t scare you, even if it terrified you the first few times.

I came home late tonight and instead of Dad not being there or being asleep as usual, he’s awake and sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine in his hand. The moment I step foot in the door he’s shouting obscenities and slurring about how I’m good for nothing dropout that doesn’t do shit. And I know I am, but he says it over and over. I scream shut up at him and run up the stairs, but as I reach the third or forth step I feel something yank my ankle and I got tumbling down the staircase. I try and stand up but my dad is crushing my arms inside his fist, holding me down at knee level. I know I was a coward to just run away from my problems, you’re right dad. A slap across the face, and it’ll all be over, just like the times before, except it’s not. Instead of walking away, cursing at me as he goes to drown himself in Merlot, he drags me by my arm away from the stairs. I start swinging at him, punching and kicking. I might’ve hit him a few times, but all I can see is the look in his eyes as he yells and without thinking punches me in the face. I wake up at five in the morning on the floor of my bedroom and I know what I’m going to do; runaway with my book bag packed. Inside is a blue blanket and my favorite outfit. I’m wearing my exboyfriend’s Elemental hoodie and a pair of long shorts. I leave my key on the kitchen table and sneak past my dad passed out on the couch.

There’s a siren outside blaring. That must be what woke me up just now. I pick myself up from the carpeted floor and sit up facing the window. It’s dark outside, probably has been for a while judging by the position of the moon. I reach inside my back pack and grab the skirt, tank top, and shoes inside. In the dim light shining into the room I peel off the hoodie and shorts and replace them with the fresh clothes from my bag. As I redressed and headed out to the street I tried remembering some of those happy thoughts from earlier.

“Hey baby-”

No not yet, I can’t listen to the cat calls just yet, I need to focus. I started to see something in my mind, something beyond the sidewalk I was walking upon. It was a memory I had almost forgotten. A smile crept upon my face. At six years old I remember going on a road trip to Arizona. On the way there I brought out my hair ties and bows and dad being the victim in the passenger seat in front of me got decorated with tons of girly bows and ribbons.

“Hey baby, you wanna go somewhere?” I turned to face the man I had just passed, looking at him but actually looking through him. These type of people aren’t really people, they don’t deserve to be looked at, just like me.

“Where to, daddy?” I replied, still smiling, but right through him.

I hopped in the car with him. The colorful hair bows. We drove to a motel. The tiny pigtails. He locked the door behind me. My dad smiling. I turn the lights turn off.

He rolls off of me and in the dim light coming in from outside I can see him reach into a brown bag next to the bed to reveal what looks like a bottle of wine. I check the time on the digital clock next to me. It reads 5:00 am exactly. I sit up and reach for my clothes but he touches my arm and asks me to stay.

“I’ve really got to go,” I say. I’m slowly forgetting my happy thought. What did my dad’s smile look like that day? It was more like a smirk…no, no…. was it like a grin? How many pigtails did I put in his hair?

The man stands up, and walks around to my side of the bed as I’m trying frantically to pull on my skirt. He turns on the light just as I finish putting on my shirt. He extends his arm in my direction and traces a rolled up fifty dollar bill against my chest, up my neck, my cheek-

In one swift movement he clutches my chin and forces me to look him in the face. Any and all thoughts are gone by now. I’m beginning to feel the sinking feeling in my stomach that always sets in after this, but for some reason instead of dashing out the door I sit there helplessly feeding my own nightmares by examining the man’s face. He has sunken eyes that are glassy and red, a receding hairline, and a few deep wrinkles around his mouth and eyes.

“Aren’t you going to have a drink before you go?” He removes his grip on my chin and raises his other arm which is clutching a bottle of Merlot.

“Dad?”