At the age of thirteen, my mother and her family lived in a small town called Beattyville in Kentucky. At the time, she lived in an old trailer near the middle school where she attended. During her upbringing, she had an alcoholic stepfather who was mentally and physically abusive to her, so she tried many times to run away from home. In the spring of 1987, she and her twelve-year-old friends ran away with a group of army men.
My mother and her friends started their journey by hitchhiking through the woods. After several hours, they stumbled upon a troop of army men and decided to catch a ride with them. Whilst splitting up, the army men instructed them to put army hats on, and they hopped into the backs of the army trucks. The men proceeded to take them to a holiday innHoliday Inn, miles away from home. My mother’s friends began drinking with the men, who seemingly wanted to take advantage of them. Fortunately for my mother and her friends, a fellow army man who had kids of his own alerted the authorities. A state trooper barged open the door and requested my mother and her friends come with him. The trooper then took them to the police station and called their parents, who came to pick them up.