He was thirteen, close to fourteen, and when he woke that morning he was sorrowful and angry. He knew what he needed to do. He would not go down the same path again, not even one more time. He never knew his mother, she was a teenager who dropped him off at the orphanage when he was six months old. The space on his birth certiifcate where his father's name should have appeared was left blank.
From the time he was six he had lived in thirteen foster homes and had been adopted once. Each time they returned him to the orphanage and his foster parents all told their version of the same issues; Anger, fighting, running away, hosility and must being incorrigable. He ran away from the Orphanage many times and each time they found him and brought him back. He knew that this time he needed to put five hundred miles between himself and he city of Omaha, far enough away that they would never find him again.
He stuffed his only belongings in a blanket, threw it over his shoulder and headed for the train sation. When he found a boxcar with an open door he climbed the ladder, found a darkened corner and curled up for warmth.