“Just keep running and they won’t find you,” I murmured to myself as sweat dripped off my forehead. I looked down at my arm and saw my black tattoo of a lion that said Fortitudo, which means strength in Latin.

It was October, and I had been trying my best to stay away from the New York police, but today was an unlucky attempt for me. As I ran down the crowded streets, I heard the sirens wailing behind me , like a child’s high pitched scream. The sirens got closer, and closer , until I could see the blinking red, white, and blue up and down the city’s buildings. My lungs won’t last much longer, neither will my legs.

“Keep going Lena,” I thought to myself while I turned the corner and slipped past a wired fence with an opening. I was small and fast, so that should help me for now, but my Asthma would definitely slow me down. I turned into an alley and bumped into someone with so much force that I fell on my back, my blonde hair in my face, moaning. I scrambled to my feet and started to sprint, but something seized me. The man I had just bumped into was grasping my arm so hard that I was losing feeling.
We advanced through a store and into a compact spare room. The man flicked on a light switch and I saw his face. He wasn’t a man he was about my age, seventeen; he was tall and muscular, with dark brown hair and eyes like the color of sapphires. He was beautiful.

“Why,” I stuttered, “why did you take me?”

“Weren’t the cops after you? I was trying to hide you,” he said while staring at the cold cement floors “You looked like you were in trouble.”

“Look,” he said as his eyes found mine, “you can leave I was just-“

“No, it’s fine. Thanks,” I said.

We sat there in silence until he asked me why the police was following me, so I told him. Only God knows why. I explained to him that my father was very abusive and would beat my mother and me constantly. One night he threatened to kill me, so I ran away abandoning my mother . I never told the police because my father is the police, so now everyone is trying to find me.
“Wow,” he managed to stammer out, and then randomly asked, “Why did you get that lion tattoo?”
“I got it after I ran away, it means strength in Latin it reminds me of who I am,” I said.
At that moment, it was like watching a fire being made, at first there’s nothing and then there’s a violent spark. He offered me to stay with him until I could find an apartment. I slept in the bed and he slept on the couch; it had been a while since I slept in a bed…

The next few days consisted of a lot of hiding and talking. We always talked about our lives and things being different. I found out a few things; his name was Greyson, his mom died when he was twelve, and he dropped out of high school to come here and get away from his family. One day we went to Times Square, my favorite place in the world, and we sat on the big steps and watched the buildings light up as the sky darkened. That very night I got a call, from my mom.

As soon as I saw who it was, I picked up the phone immediately. I heard nothing but heavy breathing on the other side of the line.

“Hello?” I stumbled upon my words.

“Hey Lena, its mom” she mumbled painfully, “Daddy got angry and really hurt me. I need your help sweetheart… please.”

With that I burst into tears and told her I was coming to help her as soon as possible. Greyson just sat there and rubbed my back as I explained what happened. He agreed that we needed to save her. After a subway or two we arrived at the door to my awful childhood memories thirty minutes after the call.
“Over here!” Greyson called out to me and pointed to the window by the basement. We kicked the glass of the window in, leaving the crystal glass shattered on the floor. We both jumped through the entrance and ran up the stairs making no sound. I could hear my father humming, which made me cringe every time. We tiptoed through the kitchen, but not before I missed a step and the floor made a loud, “CCRRREEEEEAAAAKKK!”

Greyson mouthed the word run, so I did. I ran upstairs to my mother’s room. She was there, crumpled in a ball surrounded by an immense puddle of dark red blood. My heart skipped a beat, and I ran over to her and held her tight.

She looked up, smiled, and said, “You came, you saved me.”

Minutes later we stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen. There laid my father, face down on the floor. Greyson stood beside him flushed and wounded on his left leg. He had been stabbed by a very large blade that was now lying on the ground covered in blood. I tapped my father on his head with my foot to make sure he was dead, and he did not move one bit. Greyson and my mother left, but I stayed.

“Miss me Lena?” he whispered softly in my ear. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol, and smoke.

I whimpered, and turned around to see my bloody-faced father standing behind me. He punched me in the face with his bony knuckles which brought me down. The pain rose from my mouth to my nose. It was broken. I rose, but this time he missed. I hit him upside the head then kicked him in the side to bring him down. At that moment all my rage rose up from inside of me. I kicked and kicked and kicked until I could not feel my foot. Something grabbed me from behind… it was Greyson.

“It’s ok Lena,” he said calmly, “it’s all over.”

The police arrived later and the ambulance. They took my mother and Greyson to the hospital, and they were out with in a matter of days. My father went to jail, and he is sentenced there for life. I learned a lot during that week. The weakest are the ones who think they are strong, and the strongest are the ones who think they are weak. Like a lion, I am strong and powerful.