House. A building made of bricks, wood, plastic, and cement. A place to stay safe, a place to be alone.

Why does it not feel like home?

Its my house. Made of bricks and wood.

Its my house. Filled with things I love.

Its my house. Full of memories.

But it's not my home.

My home Is not built of bricks and wood.

My home Is not a place.

My home Is with God, family, and friends.

A house is she...

We were about to escape, but there was one game left. Out of the three of us, only two could live. Both friends looked at me first, and that was the moment I realized it wasn't ever the plan for me to make it out alive. They only helped me survive this long incase this would happen. I was their escape, their freedom. Gabby stepped closer first, she showed no remorse, no sadness. Her hazel eyes wer...