The street stretched away from where she stood, her piercing green eyes looked at the rolling hills ahead of her. The sky was gloomy and the clouds were so close to the ground they seemed to put more weight on Anna's shoulders. She took a seat on the wet ground from the much needed rain Bennington had received earlier that morning. She wiped her dirt covered hands on her favorite pair of shorts that she had taken from her house only two weeks before. Her long jet black hair was pulled into a braid and rested down her bony shoulder, a few strands falling onto her fragile looking face. Her pale complexion resembled somewhat of a small porcelain doll. Anna was thin as a toothpick and it wasn't from the lack of food she hadn't had in two weeks. She had always been thin, just like her mom--that's what everyone says at least. Anna wouldn't care to know her mom anyway. The big Greyhound bus pulled to a stop at her tattered shoes, interrupting her thoughts. Her legs trembled as she stood.
For the first time in two weeks she felt afraid, the feeling was strange, she should be used to this by now. Her anxiety got the best of her, and all of the people milling off the bus began to frighten her. The scene reminded her of when she was in the airport with the unfamiliar faces, where she would find a stranger. A stranger with "open arms" that Anna was told to call dad.

Feeling unsure of herself, she got on the bus alone as the others pushed their way off to their unknown destinations. The bus smelled of sweat, cheap perfume, and cigarettes. Although it was mostly silent as Anna took her seat, a couple was arguing behind her and her mind was filled with commotion.
"You always do this to me, you never want to help," whispered a young woman's voice.
"I'm sorry I just don't have time to be with you every time you need something, I'm busy and you know that..."
She must have started crying, but Anna had her own issues to worry about.
"Don't cry, we'll be home soon," he whispered.
The speckled grey seats scratched her legs...it was like she was back home again. Although her house was not a home, and she'd never be home again. She was uncomfortable and itching for something more. She longed to be something great, something more that just a punching bag. Peering out her window Anna noticed how the paint peeled from the rundown houses. Their siding looked like an unfinished puzzle of a homes that could be beautiful, although the lost pieces made them ugly. The windows cracked and bulged like all the build up of dust inside would suddenly burst through the glass one day. The doors screamed to be ripped from their hinges and be restored.
But I guess that's life for me, always wanting a repair but no one caring enough to bother, she thought.