i began to speak, in slow, unsteady tones, managing the best I could for my voice not to crack. though I was talking, I wasn't necessarily speaking towards Freddy. at the moment, I was sure I was speaking to myself, questioning my existence in a bigger picture.

" I... i didn't have a home. i never really did anyway. my parents were... constantly drunk, and fighting. i was the only child, but only because they couldn't even handle one kid.... i was often alone, leaving the house at night, and not coming back for days..."

I began to float away from the room I had just been in. back through memory after memory, back to the little boy huddled in an alleyway, abnormal and unloved.

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i was young, maybe seven, and I was already taking care of myself. i didn't know the definition of love or the difference between care and neglect. i just knew I needed to eat, to sleep, and to be hidden at all times. my abnormalities didn't help me much, and i often wore a black shawl over my dark wings to make sure i didn't stick out.

i had a job. not a normal job, but it paid enough for me to get a home cook dinner from the cheap drugstore out south. i worked as a thief for an older man who lived on the third floor of the gator' apartments. his name was something Spanish, and i hadn't even known how to talk regular English at the time, so i acknowledge him by a nod, or a small wave. he was graying in the hair, and around the chin, but his eyes were a deep brown, and young.

he told me, because I was such a young little girl, I needed to stand up for myself. to be independent, and wise about my decisions. he knew about... ME. but he didn't care. he acted as if it didn't matter. i visited him every few nights, to make sure he was alive, and to see if I could do anything for him.

there was one night, where I went to see him. i passed the bakery, the ups store, the old rundown barber shop, and turned several blocks before coming to the old white apartments by the lake. i new something was off, when his beat-up white ford wasn't pulled in the reserved spot, which would be at least a little normal, except he never went anywhere, part of the reason I stole for him, and two, he refused to park anywhere else, calling this type of handicap his "king" spot.

My small legs somehow made it up the rickety painted boards to the elevator, which I slowly entered hoping this wouldn't be another time the elevator wasn't working. thankfully, it made a small ding and brought me to the third floor. i knew the way perfectly and made it to his door when the sun was close to gone. his door number was alien to me, because not only could I not speak, I couldn't read either.

i knocked twice loudly, and then four times softly, a secret knock that was terrible non the less, but he knew it was me by the pattern, and not a cop or neighbor. i knocked the rhythm again, but there was nothing. twice more, I knocked, but I was still standing outside the navy green door.

i huffed a sigh, and tried the nob, which was... unlocked. i knew he had multiple padlocks and chains on the door. twisting the knob, I carefully enter the small kitchen, to see the curtains drawn, another pet peeve of his.

i wanted to shout maybe, to make noise, but I couldn't.

then I saw a gory red hand stick out from behind the couch, and for once, I screamed. i ran to him, to see his eyes rolled back into his head and a large clever deep into his stomach.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------" he was the father i never had. after that, I ran away. few years later, I was caught, tested on, and went to multiple places such as this. "

Freddy looked at me the whole time, though I was staring at my hands. the room was filled with my anxiety and her occasional murmurs.

finally she got up, and came to the door, looking out the window.

" you want to get out of here, don't you?"

I hesitated but nodded slightly.

"then follow my lead, and we can get out of here. both of us."