I stand and pull the sweater over my head, feeling the heavy wool dragging down on my shoulders. I hold it close around my throat and step out into th... wild weather. In spite of my best efforts, the sweater does not offer much comfort against the cold – the wind pierces the wide gauge of the stitches and touches my flesh with its chilly fingertips. The freezing rain soaks the wool until it drags me down heavily, and the fabric freezes stiff in the icy blasts. I am shivering with cold, but. I got really scared especially seen as the teachers wouldn't do anythingabout it. God was I pleased to turn 16 and get out of there. So that is meall summed up, 17 years of age, unloved and completely friendless, yes aloner who would really love to be loved.It was a couple of days after my 17th, again lonely birthday I decidedit's time to make my move South. I told dad I was leaving to try andbetter myself as I didn't want to stay and finish up like him. God no,that's one reason I don't drink. More

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