Can you read my story? Is it any good?

It was about three in the morning as I walked down the street. People were stumbling home from bars and yellow taxi’s sped down the streets like usual. It was a cool autumn night and a nice breeze ruffled my jacket. I pulled it closer around me as people looked my way.
Despite the cold air I was sweating and breathless. My left side was burning and blood made my shirt and jeans stick to my skin. I had long ago ditched the black cloth hat that had concealed my hair and mask and flipped my jacket inside out to reveal a nice teal color instead of dark brown. I was almost home now, only a block or so away and I was anxious to get back before I was missed.
I kept my head bowed as a group off woman, drunkenly stumbled past me, laughing hysterically. The adrenaline that had kept me going all night was wearing off and the tired, achy feeling was replacing it.
The old run down Silver Street apartment building was in front of me now and I breathed a sigh of relief. I looked behind me to make sure I hadn’t been followed then cut through the weed infested garden to where the wooden milk crates where pilled under the half open window. I stepped ontop of them, sticking my figures into the cracks between the cemement blocks to keep my balance. I skimmed up the wall expertly until my figures reached the window sill and I pulled myself to. I cringed and bit my lip as my bad left side bumbed the frame. I fell to the floor as silently as I could however.
I had landed in the small bathroom. It was lightly lite with a nightlight plugged in by the sink. I stood up and flipped on the light, I didn’t even have to take a step to turn in it on the room was so small. I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess and there were twigs and leaves stuck in it. I picked the biggest pieces out then ran my brush threw it to get the smaller bits out.

The right side of my jaw was red and swollen, turning into a nasty bruise and there was a jagged cut under my right eye that was slowly oozing blood. I tore off a wade of tolite paper and ran some water over it before pressing to the cut. It stung but after it was cleaned up I smeared some anti bacterial goo on it which made it cool and tingly.
I stripped off my jacket and shirt next to reveal my torn up side. Long shallow scraps spread across my ribs and down over my waist and my hip to diseapear down into my jeans which were also ripped and blood stained. I started to clean and bandage myself up. I stripped out of my jeans and hid it along with my shirt in the cabinet under the sink. I grabbed the shirt that Logan had left lying on the floor along with his other dirty clothes and slipped it on. Turning off the light I crept out of the bathroom and through the little living room/kitchen. My little brother Gage was asleep on the couch, the tv on quietly. I pushed open the bedroom door, cringing as it squeeked and slipped inside.
Logan was sprawled out on the bed snoring softly. I pulled on a pair of pajama pants then crawled into the bed beside him.
is it a gay porno…not that im aware of…Ilmao! why do you think that?
i put it up on fictionpress.com. its called resistance.

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