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Time to talk about my friend Isaac. I'm probably wasting my time because he hasn't got a Gaia, but Oh well. My friend Guaca told me to write an autobiography, so taking that into consideration, I wrote this:

My first foster family took me in when I was 8. They seemed perfect. They were the rich people of the South Detroit area, and it looked like I had it made. The mother inherited all of her father’s assets when he died. He invested in diamond mines in the Northwest Territories in Canada and owned numerous wheat farms in Argentina.
But the family wasn’t perfect. They had parties a lot, which meant that all the children, ( 3 of them, ages 1, 3, and 4) had to go to the nanny’s house for at least two days. The parents had these parties twice a week, but never on Sunday, when they cleaned up and went back to fake-mode again.
I didn’t get to go to the nanny’s because I was “a bad girl”, (which means I wasn't a good slave and didn't do everything the fat, lazy mother said) so I stayed in the basement.
I got so sick and tired of them yelling and talking slurred, so once I didn’t hear any more noise from upstairs, I crept up and surveyed the scene. They were all motionless, so I tip-toed out into the living room, and gingerly stepped around each of the collapsed bodies.
Making it to the door, I hesitated. What if they hear me? I’d be in SO much trouble… I thought apprehensively.
Just do it. Run if they hear you. You’re faster than them. They’ll forget in 5 minutes anyway. What’ve you got to lose? My eagerness to get away from these inebriated slobs overcame my terror of being caught.
I grabbed the door handle. Twisting it ever so slightly, I peeked outside. It was almost dawn, so I guessed it was about 4AM. Even at this early hour, people were out and about.
I shut the door softly and sat on the steps. I needed a break in the steam of people, so I pretended to be looking for someone. Then, I saw my chance and took it.
“Excuse me, little girl,” A feeble old lady asked, conveniently holding up the line. “Where are your-”
I raced past her, not letting her finish the sentence. I skimmed my eyes over every alley I passed. I needed an unoccupied one so I could have peace and quiet for a bit. Suddenly, I saw an empty one.
Skidding to a halt, I dashed into it, and slumped down, elbows on my knees, hands cradling my face.
I saw so many people walk by and not even glance.
One snobby lady looked at me, but then decided she had better things to do, and moved on.
I was invisible. It was perfect.
But then I started to worry. Detroit is notorious for having not so nice people roaming around, and at 4AM I wasn't about to trust anyone.
More people walked by. Then, a boy walked by.
He back-stepped and held his sympathetic gaze on me. He came back about 10 minutes later, introducing himself as Isaac. Isaac was 13. He felt sorry for the 7 year old who's homeless and living in a box and whose name is Daisy (that's the story I told him.)
He gave me a donut and some coffee.
The parents didn't feed me very well, so I was grateful. But I was still suspicious, so I said thank you and hid it behind me until he left.
I went home before the parents woke up from the "party-till-2AM-I-don’t-care-about-anyone-but-myself" night they had.
I hid the food he gave me under my bed in the basement. If I was hungry enough I would eat it. (Eat it or pray the roaches wouldn't get to it before I did)
I snuck out and went to the same back alley at 5AM every Friday, and every Friday Isaac came with donuts and coffee.
A couple of months passed and he started sitting with me and talking to me. He asked me questions like where I was from and where my parents were. I churned out lie after lie, but felt bad. I don't know why, but I knew I could trust him.
As many questions he asked me, I asked him. But I never got any answers. "I'm fine," He'd say, "It's you I'm worried about."
A couple more months after that, I confessed that my name wasn't Daisy, it was Alicia, and I told him all of it. About the parents' problem, about the "perfect family" facade they put up, everything.
He looked shocked, then his face softened, and he said, "Well, since they're being such idiots, and you're clearly unhappy there, come with me."
My brain said WHAAATTTT?!?, but then I realized anywhere he could take me would be better than where I am.
That night I grabbed my few belongings, the stash of food he gave me ( I had a month's supply,) and a stuffed animal. A dog that was in their daughter's room.
She was at a sleep-over (she always was when it was Friday) and she had thousands more, so I doubted she'd miss it. It was small and pink, with huge turquoise eyes that made my heart melt.
"Ready?" Isaac whispered from outside the window.
"Ready." I whispered back.
Then, I heard the drunks emerging from their vodka-induced delirium.
"Crap!" I cursed. They're getting up now??? NOW of all times? I thought with dismay.
I knew what I had to do. You had to cross the living room to get to the door to leave. But I wasn't going to use the door.
I was going to jump through the window.
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That's as far as I've gotten... sorry its so long!!