Jahio were at the age of 15. He lived home with his mom and dad, or at least he used to, because right now he were running away from everything. He sat alone on the street. Looking back at the road he came from, remembering how his drunken dad had thrown things after him, while his mom had laugh. His face were almost glowing red, the anger filled him. There were no doubt, he didn’t want to go back home. Not if that was his home. He started walking, without knowing were he was heading. It was a cold night, and the streets were not a friendly place to be at, in the winter. There were always stories about children who ran away from home, and were found frozen and death the next morning. The idea that he might be one of those kids within hours scared him. But he refused to go home, that was what his parents expected of him. If he knew them right, his mom were probably wondering where he was, and why he hadn’t come home yet, while his dad wouldn’t care if he saw his own boy again.
Suddenly Jahio realized he had been walking for an hour or so. His legs were weak and cold, and he was freezing. He looked around, but could not recognize the surroundings. He used to know the city well enough to know were he was, but not now. He was too angry to care about the surroundings, what different did it made when he didn’t had a destination.. Ignoring the bone cutting cold wind in the street he walked on. As time passed, he felt more and more weak. His steps became shorter and shorter; his body were shaking as never before, and he was scared as never before. He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again and walked on. He stopped walking to close his eyes and rub his temples a couple times, but then he didn’t rub his temples, and he didn’t open his eyes. Instead he fell to the ground. The ice cold snow felt like spikes to his head, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but too close his eyes and dream.
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