First Chapter: Running for my life

You will never be happy with adoptive parents, especially mine. My parents went off on mythical creature adventures years ago. I was scared for them, and I should’ve been. My father came first. He went out to defeat the darkness that lays within the world. It didn’t work. Before he even got to the cave, an evil wizard, witch, and goblin killed him with their powers. Then, my mother. She went on to investigate trolls. They loved jokes even when she tricked them, and she was clever at getting around them. But this troll didn’t let her talk before she was eaten.
Don’t fight the darkness. It’s too powerful, Alice.
I remember my mom saying those words after dad died. I was only six, but I still understood. The police showed up after I called them for a missing report on my mom. Many policemen didn’t survive going off on their search party in the woods. After that, I ended up here with a new family and a new place to live.
It was a decent house. No. It was horrible! The house was all shabby-looking like a shack. The inside was worse. Beer cans left all over the floor, kitchen supplies stuffed in the dilapidated couch, bedrooms never cleaned, smelly socks everywhere, fuzzy screen on the television, toilet overflowing always, people never caring.
The only decent room in there was mine! There was a bed with a beautiful quilt I knitted myself on it in the corner; a big brown desk with a laptop and globe on it; a big walk in closet to the side of the room with all the things my puppy needs, I leave it open for her to come in and out; a huge bookcase full of books on the other side; and a door that leads to the hallway.
“Angelica.” called my mother.
“Yea, mom?” replied my step sister (she was from their family).
“Go get the mail.” mother commanded.
“Fine.” Angelica stepped out of her messy room and headed out the door.
“Mary.”
“Yes?” I asked. She wanted to name me Mary, but I always went by Alice. I came out of my room.
“Go get me a soda.”
“No thanks.”
“Now.”
“No.”
“Why not? Don’t you love your mother?”
“Your not my mother.”
“I am now.”
“Your still not.”
“Fine. Be stubborn.”
“Yes I will be.”
“You *****.”
“Call me all you want.”
“Bastard.”
“More?”
“*****!”
“You already used that.”
“GET TO YOUR ROOM!!”
“That’s an offer I’ll take.” I’ll walked back into my room and sat on the bed. I hated my adoptive family. I wish my mom and dad had survived. They were better at being parents than anyone in my adoptive family were.
Be strong
My dad always had said when he got hurt and I cried. Mom never cried except when dad passed on to heaven. I trembled as tears spilled from my eyes like a water fountain.
“Sis?” Angelica entered my room. I pushed my brown hair back away from my eyes, my emerald-green eyes shimmering in the sunlight. My tan cheeks were drenched with water from my tears.
Angelica was chubby and had big bushy blond hair. Her eyes were brownish, and her skin was too pale all the time.
“I’m not your sister.”
“Yes you are.”
“Don’t speak to me.” I said.
“Please, I-”
“Get out.”
“Mary, I-”
“Out.”
“Mary-”
“MY NAME ISN’T MARY. MY NAME IS ALICE. I SAID GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!” I screamed.
“Quiet down!” yelled Lucinda, my adoptive mother.
That’s when I made the decision. Angelica ran out of the room. I wasn’t coming back to this house after I left. I was never coming back.
I got up from my bed and closed my bedroom door. Then, I got my backpack and two bags. I grabbed my miniature globe, compass, paper, pencil, notebook, map, books, and Cookie, my puppy’s things she needed in the backpack and bags. I quickly wrote down a note:

Apparently you can’t handle me so I will leave. Goodbye world, goodbye life, goodbye haters of me, ALICE not Mary. Don’t even try to find me. I won’t be anywhere near you. I took all my belongings so you can use this room for someone more special that you can get along with. I’m so sorry if I offended you by calling you messy, unorganized, and not very good at control. Bye Lucinda, Brice, and Angelica.
Sincerely,
ALICE

Brice was my adoptive dad, but he was always at his friend’s house. He called it work, but I called it laziness.
I put the note on the door so they would see it and grabbed my bags and backpack. I put my backpack over my shoulders, carried two bags in one hand, and Cookie in the other. Cookie was a English bulldog shepherd mix. She was only a baby thing yet. Only seven weeks old. I’m twelve, so I’m old enough to be on my own, right?
“Hey!” yelled Lucinda as I snuck out the window with all my belongings.
I looked up and saw Lucinda trying to pull me back. I looked like I was mad, but controlled myself. Lucinda looked like she failed, and she did.
“What?” I asked one last time.
“Get your butt back in here, missy.”
“Read the note, Lucy.” I said.
“It’s Lucinda.”
“Yeah well I’m Alice, not Mary. Sometimes we don’t get what we want in life.” I rep