Wednesday, March 13, 2013

13

Her name was Sue. Like my sister. She was there the summer I was 13. And October too, the 31st. I must have been 14 by then. I hadn't gone trick-or-treating for a few years, and when she suggested it, I was excited to go. But she showed up with the boy who lived at the end of the tiny street, and I think one other one. I think of him as Albert, but I believe that was his last name. He was sniffing around her, and she seemed to like the attention. I couldn't stand him. So I made an excuse, said I didn't feel like going. I didn't want to admit the truth. I don't think I ever told her. I didn't want to make her choose. I didn't want to feel like that. She was gone by the time March came around. We didn't keep touch.

She told me what to do, but I didn't listen. She was street smart, and knew how these things worked. I did not. And I was afraid. I should have listened. I just didn't understand why her social worker wouldn't help me. If my situation didn't warrant help, they why would I lie and say I was her? I was afraid of what would happen when the woman came to get me. I was supposed to say I was Sue and that I had run away again. So I did nothing.

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