My name is Zachary M. Jones. I’m 17 years old and hating every minute of my life. The happiest time in my life was when we lived in the blue, little, two story house when I was a kid. That was before mom left, and dad started drinking. Mom took off one night when I was eight. I always dreamed that she would come and get me from my dad and take me somewhere better. Sometimes I get birthday or Christmas cards from different parts of the world but she never stayed long in one spot.

When I was ten, my dad and I moved into an apartment near State Street. He started drinking a week later. My dad never hit me, or touched me, but it was just as bad. He left me in care of my grandma some days. My grandma hates me, but she does have money and would buy me anything. It was dads’ girlfriends that were the bad parts.

My dad always needed someone in his life that he can use and abuse. In return they used and abused me. When dad left to go to some bar whatever girl was here that night, would sneak into my room and tell me everything is fine, before they beat me. Dad never said anything, but when I turned sixteen I finally stood up for myself… it got my kicked out for a week. Finally dad stopped bringing them around.

Last month I turned 17. What a great birthday, kids going around dressed up like things/people they aren’t. I stayed home and passed out candy to them. A week later I went to a party and split when the cops showed up.