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Running Prt 3

The tears mist my eyes, my throat swelling so I almost can’t breathe as ache hits me low in the gut and threatens to make me crumble. I push the note back inside quickly, trying to combat it and flick through the cash, mentally counting almost two hundred dollars and it breaks the wall that’s been holding in the tears. I slump down onto the floor, like a disheveled sack and begin to cry, holding it close to my chest and completely break down. It’s not just for this, but for everything.

Why now did I find my pack, at a time when I thought I had no other option? Why would the fates give me something closer to a real home, only to make it unreachable by the tiniest stretch?

I have to pull myself together and stop being weak. None of this matters, and it doesn’t change things. I have to get my crap together and stick to what I decided. I have to stay strong and determined. I can’t break, because if I do, I won’t be able to put myself back to
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