I reached out and placed my hand on her shoulder, she looked at me with teary eyes. The truck came to a stop and she began to cry. Panicking, I jumped to her side of the truck and held her. 

“I know, it’s hard.” I whispered in her ear and held her tighter as her tears fell harder.

Time seemed endless as we sat in her truck, until she stop crying, and whispered “How did you get over the death of your mother?” 

I closed my eyes and thought back to that year in December, when I was 10, when she left me under a bridge to go smoke with a friend. And how I stayed under that bridge for a week, only eating the loaf of bread that she had gave me. I knew something was wrong the moment she left, but I chose to ignore it, and kept focusing on the life that we should have had. The one where on Christmas I woke up to a  new puppy licking my face, and not the bright light of a cops flash light. They asked me who I was, why was I here. And I knew the drill, I knew not to tell them who my mom was or what happen, because I would never her again if I did. 

    “I ran away.” my small 10 year old voice told the hoving police. They asked me where I lived. I gave them the only address I knew, and we arrived at the house of my best friend. Her mother answered the door filled with Christmas cheer, which soon melted away once she saw me. The cops asked her if she was my mother. She lied and said she was my aunt. 

“Alice helped me through it.” My voice cracked when as I spoke. I felt numb all over. 

Carmen dried her eyes, and I gave her a weak smile. She took me home and hugged once again. “Carmen,” I said slowly “If you ever need to talk or” I trailed off not knowing what to say, I was not the type to keep a promise. 

“I know Shane.” She smiled back, then kissed my cheek. I picked up my phone from the floor of her truck and left. Fighting with all the emotions I was experiencing.