Prologue
My life is a game of pretend. Every morning, I assume a new identity. No one knows my real name- although they believe that they do- because I change it daily, also. My back story shifts and rewrites itself depending on the situation that I am in (one day I’ll have extremely wealthy parents; the next? A little sister with lung cancer). The people I meet realize eventually, but by then I have escaped.
        The truth is that I am alone. I have never had a family. Of course I have parents, but they left me at an orphanage when I was a baby. At age four, I knew I wanted out, so I ran away one cold and wet night. I found a cardboard box behind a restaurant that was a mile away and made that my home for a few hours. I learned right away that I needed to stay on the move, which led me on a quest to find a real family. Eleven years have gone by and I’m still alone. I now realize that it’s pointless; to search, to yearn, to feel… I am my own family; no one else.

Chapter 1
Sometimes I have these flashbacks. I’ll awake from sleep and see two pairs of eyes peering down at me. The rest of their facial features are blurry, but I can tell that one of the faces belongs to a man and the other, a woman.  I have always assumed that they were my mother and father.
        It’s always the same: my mother will watch me closely for a minute or so, cringe, then look at my father and say, “He is such a disgrace; get rid of him.” Then I am taken away and imprisoned in an orphanage with rooms like prisons. At the time, I wasn’t sure what disgrace meant, but if it sent me away from my parents, it had to mean something terrible. Therefore, I am always haunted by what she said when I am about to do something wrong— which is a reason why I should steer clear of getting into these kinds of situations— but I can’t help it.
         Here I am in a grocery store, sneaking food into my black Jansport backpack. Earlier this morning, I told myself that I would be paying for the food with my own money. But then, I remembered that I’m literally broke, so I was forced to go with Plan B: steal the food. I always try to avoid Plan B, but come on— I’m a fifteen year old guy, for Christ’s sake. I NEED FOOD.
        I never wanted to be a thief, though. As I pile cans of Red Bull and beer into my already stuffed backpack, all I can hear are those five words: “He is such a disgrace.” With every passing moment, my mind gets fuzzier. The words; louder. They repeat like a chant, making me nauseous. Over and over, until I can’t take it anymore.
        Zipping up my backpack, I speed walk toward the automatic sliding doors. I know I checked the doors for sensors when I first walked into the building, so I don't have to worry about an alarm going off, but maybe someone saw me- God, the security cameras! Oh well, they won't be able to catch me; I'm unstoppable. I sigh, gazing through the sliding glass into the outside world. Dark clouds line the sky.. A storm is on the way. It's a crazy world out there and people like me don't make it any better. Wait- I'm wasting too much time. Don't think, just do! I walk out and don't look back as the store grows smaller behind me.

It's kind of funny to me when blind homeless men sit on a curb with an empty soup can filled with money. Fellow street folk can just walk by and take cash from the oblivious man. What I find so funny about it is that I'm one of those idiotic street folk. You see, this particular blind man has caught my eye for some time, but I was never desperate enough to steal from a fellow brother, so to speak. But the way I see it, I have no choice now. If I'm going to rob a grocery store, I might as well rob a blind man.
        When I finally reach him, I don't hesitate: I slip my sweaty hand into the can and quickly pull out a fistful of crumpled green bills. Before the man can say a word, I place one of the stolen beers in his hand and say, "don't worry, fellow friend, I only took a five." Which isn't necessarily a lie; I did take a five.. Plus another five. And a ten. With a possible storm brewing, I will need to stay in a hotel for at least one night. It's not like I'm stealing.. just borrowing from a guy in a similar situation as I am and never planning to repay him.
     Plain and simple, don't judge me. I'm to the point of not caring whether I'm a thief or not.. I just hold on to that stupid thread of innocence; of the hope that I am not a disgrace. But I can't think about this right now, it's too painful. I visualize a warm hotel room, a clean bed, a feast of fresh food. And as I smile, it starts to rain.
        "Oh my god, you have got to be freaking kidding me right now!" I shout, as the shower evolves into a downpour.
I am immediately soaked, my clothes clinging to my skin, my dark hair like a mop on top of my head. I sprint as fast as my legs will allow, kicking up puddles of dirty water, my backpack bouncing on my back with every step. Slimy brown leaves attach themselves to my shirt and my jeans. My head starts to ache, followed by my eyes, throat, and ears. The wind makes a whirring sound in my eardrums; my eyes sting, vision blurry.
        Suddenly I am transported to eleven years ago, the night I escaped the orphanage. I was four at the time and a weakling. I can still feel the ice edging its way through my heart, threatening to freeze it over. I remember the wet, slick ground as I ran; the unbearable cold overwhelming my body. You want to know a super shocking, earth shattering secret? Sometimes I wish I would have just died of hypothermia.