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It started a week ago, when I ran away from home.
Life, as I knew it,
was over. Well, not exactly ran away...I was kicked out of the house,
really, because I got caught ‘entertaining' a friend of mine in my room
- the kind of entertainment that had us lying on my bed, engaged in a
romantic embrace.
It had been quite pleasurable, kissing and feeling each other up a
little, until the door of my bedroom opened and my stepfather, a hard
man and ex-military, unexpectedly barged in, barking why the dog hadn't
been let out yet. My hands' placement was particularly embarrassing.
Suffice it to say that the next hour was the worst I've ever
experienced. Yelling, lectures (about what God would do to
cocksuckers), threats, me retorting with sarcasm and anger; and it all
resulted in one thing: me, a guy barely out of his teens and with a
little over $500 in cash, stepping off a bus in Las Vegas.
I'd barely slept, other than some napping on the bus, and I desperately
needed a shower and a good long sleep.
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