Chapter 1

I slid the hot plate of fried eggs and bacon across the table cringing in anticipation of the bash that would come when he finished eating- a typical Monday morning.
As much as I hated it, we went through this routine every day. I wasn't the kind of person to struggle and end up like my mother.
He was done now and the blow hit my jaw this time. The plate left a red mark which I knew would bloom into a large purple bruise some time soon
I didn't know why he did it, I didn't know what was going through his head, but I don't hear many stories about child abuse these days. I had to look for to this every time my dad saw my face.
I wouldn't even consider him “dad.” To me, he was Phil. Just Phil. He wasn't good enough to be called “dad” anyway. At least, not to me.
After the hit, Phil stood up, grunted, and headed down the hall to the bathroom.
I sighed and sweeped up the broken pieces of ceramic on the wooden floor.
There were still little bits of the plate left on the floor, but if Phil ended up tripping and cut his foot on it, what would I care?
It was only nine in the morning, but I decided on going to my best friend, Gabe's, house. He was an early riser anyway. I didn't think he'd mind.
After I finished cleaning up the kitchen, I ran upstairs before Phil could see me- He takes a long time in the bathroom.
I quickly changed into some denim shorts and a tee shirt, slid on my converse (which were my only pair of shoes,) and slouched down on my twin bed near the window. It made a loud springing noise when I sat on it. From there, I could see a view of Gabe's bedroom perfectly. He had a large window right by his bed too. It was like his room was mine but flopped around. That's how all of the houses were like in this stupid neighborhood.
Quietly, I peeked out the door to see if the coast was clear. Phil was probably drinking some whisky and watching the football channel anyway.
I crept down the steps that led to the kitchen and froze when he vomited right on the rug in front of him. I'd have to clean that up later.
I slowly but carefully walked past the refrigerator making as little noise as I possibly could. This, sadly, was also a daily routine- Sneaking out of the house. A few times I've actually been caught. You could have sworn that a train had crashed into me once Phil was done with me. So, obviously, this was risky. To do this every day, I mean. But, I'd do it any day to spend more time with Gabe. I didn't know if that was good thing or bad thing.
After another grunt, Phil stood up off of his lazy a*s (for once) and fumbled over to the kitchen counter. I practically had to dive behind the chair that he was sitting in which smelled like alcohol, cigarette smoke, and vomit- What a lovely combination.
A minute later, I had made a safe exit through the front door and sprinted to Gabe's house

Author's Note

I have no idea why it's all stretched out like this, but just live with it, I guess.