I sat on the rocky beach. The wet sand stuck to my ratty old sweatpants, it coaxed it’s way between my toes as I slipped off my sneakers and buried my feet in the ground. Where do I go from here? Not home I thought, never again.

The lake was peaceful, serene even. It was a cold April morning, my sweatshirt was still wet from the rain that had cleared hours ago. I stared across the glassy water. It mirrored the air, it was so smooth I could see the birds flying above, reflected from the endless sky. I liked it here, it was nice, I thought. But I needed somewhere to go, somewhere I could sleep without fear, somewhere safe.

My long brown hair was ratty, the sheen it once possessed gone without any trace. I couldn’t remember the last time I bathed, let alone had a decent meal. Right now, you might think I’m crazy. You’re probably wondering why I’m here. Why don’t I stay in my warm, dry, home with my loving parents? I’ll explain that all in time, I promise. But what I can tell you now is that cozy home you imagined for me? It doesn’t exist. These gentle, nurturing parents? They aren’t real either. My name is Lucy Beslile, and I’m a runaway.