The
Mistake.
Chapter 2.
I
sat next to his laying body.
“What are you doing here?” he
said sitting up readjusting his sweatshirt, he removed his hood.
He had jet black hair and green eyes, from what I could make out
in the dark.
“My parents told me to get out”
my voice said. Part of me just wanted to tell him, but I have no
clue about him.
“Alright, I won’t
complain.” He said shivering, “What’s your
name?”
“Megan” I said giving out a quick
smile, “Yours?”
“Rocco” he said focusing on the
brick, he routed through his pocket and came out with a bouncy
ball, and he started bouncing it on the brick
wall.
“How come you’re homeless?”
I asked, I had no clue if I regret answering that
question.
“I’m not homeless” he said
holding onto the yellow ball “I ran away,
you?”
“Ugh” I said focusing on the
stars up above us, “I’m not
homeless”
“Then what are you?” he said
sitting around “No one ever talks to
me”
“I live with my parents” I
said.
“So why do you have to steal?” he
asked, I looked at him he could probably tell I was
shocked.
“It’s complicated” I said
biting my lip, I’ve known this boy for less than an
hour.
“I’m sure I’ve heard
worse” he said in a low voice.
“Why should I tell you?” I said
staring at him.
“Because we’re close
friends” he said truthfully, are we
really?
“Really?” I
mumbled.
“Don’t you want to be my
friends?” he asked sounding upset.
“I do” I said “No one
really knows about my parents”
“Know what?” he
said.
“Fine you want to hear the truth my
last boyfriend broke up with me because of it...” I said
before he cut in.
“Just tell me” he said in a bored
voice.
“My dad’s a druggie and my
mom’s an alcoholic, happy?” I said, my eyes felt like
an onion had just been cut.
“Oh, can’t they get help?”
he said concerned.
“Help? I’ve tried that. They
don’t want help they don’t even want me!” I
said standing up, “I’m their
mistake!”
“Oh” he said scanning my
body.
I slipped my back down the rough
bricks.
“Why did you runaway?” I said
looking into his green eyes.
“I guess you’ve told me your
story” he said, he took a deep breath “My mom died 4
years ago of cancer and my dad doesn’t want me, neither of
my family does”
“Why?” I asked looking concerned,
least I had a house, well he did but he chose not
to.
“My dad doesn’t want me, he told
me to get out 3 months ago. I started smoking and doing bad
things” he said, “Probably like you
do”
“I don’t smoke...” I
said.
“But you steal” he added, I felt
my face turn into all shades of red.
“Maybe I should go” I said
standing up but he grabbed my hand.
“Don’t go” he pleaded
looking into my blue eyes.
“Want to come to mine?” I asked
holding out my hand.
“Sure” he said, “Anything
as got to be better than the streets”
