The Days When I Was "Abandoned" I lived alone since I was twelve. At that time, I thought there was no love and warmth in this world. On September 1th, I was sent to the county middle school. After arranging the daily necessities for me, my parents, then, left the rental house. Night fell; fear rose. Sure enough, it was a sleepless night and that was just the beginning. The door was battling with the powerful wind and the window rattled noisily as if trembling with scare. I knew very little about life; for a moment, I felt I was abandoned. What’s more devastating was, on the third day when I went back home—more specifically a shelter, by no means a home in the eyes of a twelve year old—I found my key was gone. Being sure that there was no key in my pockets, I then fumbled in my backpack, but it likewise, didn’t show a trace of key. Seized with desperate, I wept, sitting feebly on the staircase in front of the door. One voice was lingering in my head, “Now, you damn house deserts me, too.”