Your parents are abusive; they treated you poorly since you were only ten. So you became a runaway.

Going through numerous foster homes growing up; being a troubled and rebellious kid.

Now you’re wandering the streets. Having just ran away from another foster.

You had your gaze forwards as you walked. Noticing a military truck parked with a man leaning against it.

His gaze turned towards you, as he leaned off the truck.

“You must be that runaway” his eyes piercing through you.