The summer of 2012 may have possibly been the most difficult months of my life. A chain of unfortunate events had led me homeless and family-less, giving me few options for living space and basic necessities. Upon learning street smarts and how to protect myself from those around me who want to do me harm (I was a fairly attractive 18 y/o female so this lesson was a MUST and I had even been close to losing my life on multiple occasions) and feed myself and those who I had to protect myself.
Early summer, I had fallen for one of my best friends in school before graduating and on my last day, he asked me if I wanted to be his. Being together through some of the hardest times of my life gives me mixed emotions because he did cause a great deal of the stress I encountered.
Soon after he and I had started our relationship, my [adopted] dad started getting more verbally aggressive towards me. I knew he was an alcoholic and smoked marijuana daily, but that was all I was aware of at the time. He'd call me names and make me feel like trash. I'd never done drugs, I wasn't one to fool around excessively, and I didn't have a temper. On my free time, I was to cook the meals and clean the house and leave as I pleased so long as I had gotten my stuff done, but he was starting to try to keep me in the house by guilting me.
Some time in June, late at night, my dad was getting too drunk and my grandmother was visiting from out of state and he was laying on her telling her how much he loved her. He carried his Jack Daniels with him taking a swig whenever he felt like it (pretty often). I got tired of it, took the bottle from him, and left to put it in his "secret stash" in his bedroom. Opening his stash, I found multiple bags of cocaine!
I was beyond devastated. I was hurt that the only family I had left was putting this on me. I showed him what I found, he was in total shock. I ran off. I couldn't help it. A neighbor found me around 4 AM at a local park, shaken. She convinced me to come "home". Later that morning he came into my room apologizing, promising to leave that weekend to get help. Sure enough, he left that weekend. I soon found out that he was partying with ONE of his girlfriends in Tallahassee.
The day he was to come home, my boyfriend, John, had run away from his father's house due to his father getting stoned and beating him. He came to me for comfort. Minutes after he came in the house to have a drink and tell me all that happened, my dad showed up, very high. I already had a friend on the way to drop John off back at his father's house. My dad was very upset that I had let John in the house without him home.
After dropping John off, I returned back home to a very drunk, very high, and very angry dad. He started calling me names, telling me I was a sl*t for letting John in, that I must have invited him over to spread my legs, that I was just like my mother. I snapped. I yelled back at him, reminding him of all that I do for him, that I'm not nearly as bad as he makes me seem to everyone. Next thing I know, he's dragging my down the hall by my throat, throws me into my room and tells my to pack and get out.
Before he could finish, I run out from a space he left. I sprint down the street, him trying to follow, screaming profanity at me. Neighbors were startled by the confutation held on the street. I didn't plan on returning, so I didn't care. I had an idea as to where I could go. Little did I know what I was getting myself into...
As soon as John heard what had happened to me, he came to the park I was staying at to be sure I was ok (though he didn't show up until the next day) so I slept on a bench, needing to be in the open. I didn't sleep but a few minutes. I was sickened by what had happened that day.
The next day, John showed up and said he wasn't going back. He needed to be with me. I was fine with it. I showed him where we'd be staying from then on, which ended up being a few months.
The park I was staying at was an extension of a middle school called Driftwood. On the park section which was fenced off from the rest of the school to make public during the day were 2 abandoned Portable classrooms. Years prior, the Spanish teacher who had taught in one of the lost her young daughter in the bathroom. The girl's death caused the school to lock up and fence off the portables from the rest of the school.
I found how to open one of them from friends who attended that school. I knew how to get in and out and taught John. I cleaned it up and we put blankets in there to make it easier to sleep. I spent nights in there prior when dad was too much for me to handle other times.
Every night something would awaken us at the same time. I wore a cross on me at all times that I'd had for as long as I could remember. I'd pray to keep us safe from whatever was bothering us there.
One night, John had found enough change for us to get a cup of noodles and a drink from the gas station and sent me out for a run to the store. He wouldn't go near the POD, as we called it, while I was gone. I know Emily, my friend, a ghost, helped protect us while we were there. He didn't feel her there when I left to get us something. He'd feel shivers and couldn't even stand in the field where the POD was and feel safe.
I was gone for about 20 minutes when he glanced at the POD and saw my head poking out. He thought I was calling him and didn't know I had returned. Once he crossed the field half way, he looked at me again, sticking my head out the door, then saw that it wasn't me!
The girl in the doorway was very young with dark hair. He blinked and she was gone, the door started closing! He ran off until he saw me come up the road behind the POD. He ran to tell me what happened. He was terrified, not wanting to go back in. I was scared too, but knew it was the safest place for us. Being in FL, it rained that night. Luckily I could coax him in that night. He fell asleep way before me. The whispers were keeping me up late...