I'm sorry! I know it was long-but I couldn't just post a tl;dr because the story is so stupidly long.

I ran because of what I wrote! My brain is terrible most of the time, but in high stress situations I'm mildly okay at discerning risk levels. It was either: run, or get stuck with a million tickets for possession of various illegal substances.

I'm not sure why he kicked me in the face. The only explanation I have is that I think he thought I was one of the boys who lived there, because I forgot my coat at home, and was wearing one of their xxxl harley davidson hoodies. If this assumption is true, he kicked me in the face because he was sick of having to arrest these boys all the time and was pissed that he was spending his friday night chasing teenagers and jumping fences to arrest them.

My parents didn't answer the damn phone because I was a 'bad kid' growing up-and given that they both worked 60+ hours a week, I think they decided that getting some sleep was more important that whoever the hell was calling. I don't blame them, but I still bring it up sometimes when they don't answer my calls. They've never taken more than ten minutes to call me back after that.

I'm fine! Honestly, it was a net positive experience. I shouldn't have been hanging out with those assholes, I should have left them all there (esp. after they left me literally hanging from a fence post,) and I shouldn't have let 'friends' put me in shitty situations when they all knew I was terrified of tickets/citations. I learned: not to be friends with assholes, not to run from police officers, and not to surround myself with self-destructive people. My parents didn't punish me for what happened, because the scar tissue on my face was a big enough reminder (...and I was being the 'responsible' sober friend.) It did damage my relationship with my dad a bit, because my car was parked outside said house for a few days, and someone syphoned an entire tank of gas out of my car-and this was when gas was $4.25 a gallon-and I drove a tank of a sedan. I wanted to know how they did it, so I googled "how to syphon gas" and my dad saw this in my search history, and accused me of theft. Now we joke about it, but being accused of a crime by someone really close to you is very hurtful.

You can barely see the scar now. It's annoying when I do my eyeliner, but that's about it. I learned an important lesson. Still hate that police department, though.