I ran down the dark alleyway, trying to avoid my psychotic father. My bare feet being cut up by glass and plastic on the dirty New Jersey streets. The cold wind and rain was seeping through my pajamas and my bangs clung to my face. I heard my father's drunken shouts from behind me
"Brynn, sweetheart! Come to daddy!" I could hear him gaining on me, and ignoring the pain in my feet I started to sprint down the alleyway, tears streaming down my cheeks along with my own blood that was coming out of the gash on my forehead that my father had given me. I dodged behind a dumpster at the last minute just before a large brick wall that would've enclosed me with him.
"Here Bry Bry, come home sweetheart!" My father slurred. I held my breath in an attempt to try and not make any noise, and after about 10 minutes I heard him shuffle away, finally giving up on me.
That was when I allowed myself to cry.
The sobs racked my body as I thought about the events of that night.