Growing Up Fast

No.

That was the word I would hear all my life as an adult. I was born before the madness, but grew up just as mad as the world that we live in now. My real parents had dropped me off at a foster parent. The parent was... not so efficient. He was a divorced, alcoholic mess of a dad. In fact, a "dad" isn't even the right term. He was my father. So you can guess what happened, he wasn't nice to me. I ran away eventually, because I just couldn't take that type of abuse.

What age did I run away at, you may be asking? I ran away at age four. I had to live on my own for twenty-five years, it wasn't easy. Every person I had asked to take me in declined in doing so.

Mind you, I grew up in Detroit, Michigan. It's not one of the better places to live, in fact, it's pretty bad. Crime everywhere, lots of people unemployed, but I toughed it out.

I had to grow and learn everything by watching or experiencing things on my own. I eventually, at age 16, I toughened up and just left. I wandered around the United States for a long time until I decided to settle in Richmond, Virginia. From then on, I just walked along, if someone needed help, i'd help them in whatever way I could, hoping they'd do the same for me. Sadly, no one really pulled through.

But then the bomb came.