Garage Boy

Equality is a gift. A privilege. Don't let anyone tell you it's a right, because if it was, everyone would have it. And that is what is wrong with society today. You can't tell the truth, because sometimes, people won't believe you. Because of where you come from. What you believe in. Your race. Your religion. Let me explain.

I stepped off the plane, handcuffs on my wrists behind my back, and my head bowed. The handcuffs were too tight. There were too many people. Too many guards. I'd been touched and felt up too much. And now I was being dragged into hell.

The officer pushed me by the back of my neck all the way into the building and to the cell I shared with two other guys. One of them was scrawny, short, with blonde hair and sores on his face. The other was about the same height, only more buff. The scrawny one stepped forward first.
"I'm Skinny. That's Jenk. Who you?" He asked.
"I'm Harry Styles," I stated. His eyes went wide.
"A British boy?" He and Jenk looked at each other. Then back at me. Then they both busted out laughing. I sighed and nodded.

I was in that fucking American jail for eight months. Then I knew. There was no way in hell I could survive for two years. Escaping was the easy part. I just slipped out the door and ran for my life. Then I had to figure out where to hide. So...

They were onto me. I ran. I ran so fast, my lungs were on fire. I needed to find somewhere, and fast. To my right, a lady opened her garage and pulled in I booked across the street and rolled in, hiding behind a table. The garage closed, and nobody even noticed. But this was only the beginning.

Notes