text: Sometimes in life, you are given a choice. Free will, as they say. You choose your fate, and you accept the consequences. I understood that. But sometimes, you don't get to choose. I didn't choose my parents' endless beatings, or their little torture games they played on me. I didn't choose for my life to be full of purple bruises and empty stomachs. But on one day, when I was walking to school on a particularly malicious day, all of that was taken away by a man in a 1996 Honda Civic. And I chose to go with him. Savior, or kidnapper, those names were interchangeable when it came to Jako. While his treatment towards me wasn't what people on the outside considered desirable, anything was better than the bitter neglect my parents showed. They didn't even care I was gone. No one looked for me, and I was okay with that. I didn't want to be found, and I wasn't. Not for seven years, at least. It was November 14, 2020 when Jako came storming into my cell, grabbing the collar that hung around my neck with this grubby hand. "Go," he growled, shoving my out. "W-what's going on?" I shouted as Jako dragged me along. "Shut up!" He screamed, giving a quick yank on my collar. "They'll hear you." I figured that Jako knew best, and promptly shut up, following him through the dark corridors. Yet the voices of the police officers and their shining flashlights grew closer and closer. Then, I heard it. "Jako Ramirez, come out with your hands up!" ~ They gave me a choice. It was simple, really. Well, it was to them. They just wanted me gone, out of their police station. The officer stared at me, waiting for my answer. I could go home, back to the childbood I was freed from, back to the endless beatings and hissing insults. Or, I could go. Where, I wasn't sure. I longed for Jako and my safe cell, but that wasn't my life anymore. I needed to choose. Freedom, I decided. Freedom was what I wanted. ~ But was I free? Now, the two options seemed foggy, more the same than I thought. I was homeless, plain and simple. Homelessness was not free. Torture was not free. I was not free. Day after day, all I felt was cold. The shivering and aching were constant. Each time I coughed, the blood that spattered out reminded me of my bloody past. The blood worried me, but it wasn't like I could do anything. A hospital was out of the question, of course. Sometimes, when I would sit huddled by a bus stop on a particularly cold winter day, people would stare at me, looking at me like I was the scum of the earth. But what did I do wrong? If only they knew my story, maybe they would understand. ~ When you're homeless, stealing is inevitable. I had been avoiding it, but I couldn't any longer. My survival depended on it. So, one particularly rainy day, I slipped inside a convenience store. My head ducked down; I kept my eyes trained on the shiny linoleum floor as I made my way to the back. The bell on top of the door chimed, and I jumped, suddenly paranoid. Shoving my morals back down, I reached out for a can of ravioli. "Hey." I jumped, getting over my initial startle. I looked up to see a boy my age, looking down at me with piercing green eyes. His posture and expression screamed confidence, and I was suddenly self concious. I hoped that I didn't smell. "Hi," I mumble, ducking under his arm. "Woah," he chuckled. "What's wrong?" "I, uh, I've gotta go." He stared at me for a moment before his whole face lighted up. "It's the rain, isn't it?" He looks outside, the pouring rain beating down. "I always get jittery when there's rain. But hey, coffee usually cheers me right up. What do you say? Coffee?" One thing I learned from being homeless was that you never turned down free food, especially if it was warm. So without a word, I nodded. "Great!" The boy beamed. "Oh, and I'm Finn." "Hannah." ~ We began spending a lot more time together. I became an expert at hiding my homelessness from him, but it never felt good to do so. I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't. Anyway, we made our relationship official not long after that first coffee. Love was something I never imagined as I child, but the word came easily to me, because that was how I felt. I loved Finn. I was happy with him, and I no longer minded going "home to the small space underneath the playground. I no longer minded the stares. I no longer paid attention to the increasing amount of blood I coughed up from my lungs. But ignorance isn't bliss. March 4, 2021. I was with Finn on our three month anniversary. We were walking down the street, and I had, for the first time in a long while, a full stomach. Arm in arm, words were not needed as we walked. But tonight was important. All these months, and I was finally going to admit it, and tell Finn that I was homeless. Somehow, I knew it would be okay. I knew he would stay. I turned to Finn, and he stopped. "What's wrong?" He asked, instantly sending my worry. I bit my lip, pondering my words. "Fi--." Just then, I was overcome by coughing. Feeling weak, I collapsed to the ground. The last thing I heard was Finn's distressed voice. "Hannah? Hannah! Oh God, you're coughing up blood!" ~ I woke up with what felt like a heavy weight on my chest. Struggling with my voice, I manage to squeak out a meager, "Finn?" as I wildly darted my eyes around the hospital room. Instantly, he's by my side. I attempted a smile, but Finn did not return it. Instead, his forehead was creased and his eyes were filled with worry. "Hey, you look worried. Is it raining?" I kept waiting for a smile. "Hannah." "What?" I grin, not getting the reaction I was expecting. "Hannah." My smile disappeared. "Just tell me what's wrong with me," I whimper, turning my head away from him. That's when I heard a soft sob escape his mouth. I turn back to him. "Finn?" My voice quivered. "It's cancer, Hannah. Lung cancer. I could've helped you! You should've told me, Hannah! You should've..." Finn buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking softly. "Finn," I whispered. "I could've saved you!" He yelled suddenly. Then, I was crying too. "Am I going to die?" I whimpered, feeling like I was a kid again, terrified of the future. I got no response, only sobs. And I knew. "Oh, God. No. No." I grabbed Finn, and I held him tight. I wasn't about to let go. But I did. I let go six days later.