July 7th

May 7

I finally got sick of it. It didn't even hurt anymore when he'd beat me, it just became a simple nuisance. So, I decided, I wasn't going back there. Ever. I took some of my stuff, including a gun, my lighter, pocketknife, flip phone, a roll of money, and cigarettes, and snuck out as usual, but this time not planning on sneaking back in. I opened my bedroom door, making sure my father was asleep. He was out like a light. Perfect. I kicked one of the boards as hard as I could, and it broke, but made a snap, a bit too loud. Fear ran through me, and I just hoped it hadn't woke him up, but, of course, nothing ever goes my way, does it? The loud sound of shattering glass and the snap of the board was enough to get his attention, and I heard his loud, angry footsteps approaching my room. Shit! I thought, panicking. I quickly grabbed all my stuff, shoving them all into various pockets of my jeans and hoodie, and as quickly as I could, struggled to fit through the small space in the window. I heard the door slam open, and looked back. My father was in my room now. "Fuck you!" I yelled, finally slipping all the way through, landing on the shards of shattered glass and splintered wood. I yelled in pain, but still tried to get up as fast as possible. The second I got to my feet, I took off as fast as possible, getting as far from the house and my father as possible. I eventually reached the alley behind the ice cream shop, and stopped there. I panted and struggled to catch my breath. Shit, I'm going to pass out. I thought, my lungs burning. I collapsed to the floor, but I was still conscious.