~19~

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~16 years old~

I remember heading home from school that hot afternoon day. The sun beating down on my skin as I had just walked 5 miles in dark jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Stopping in front of my house, my dads beat up truck was still sitting in the driveway. He's normally not here when I get home... He's moved on from drinking in front of the TV to drinking at the local bar, I guess the sight of me really got to him.

Being blamed for my own mother leaving had stopped bothering me years ago, I hate her just as much as he did. I don't blame her for leaving him, he's a drunk and abusive asshole. I blame her for leaving me here, I hated her for it every time he laid a hand on me.

I took a deep breath and headed inside the house, the smell of booze burning my nostrils as I walked behind the couch and into the kitchen to make dinner. I normally have time to head to the store after school to grab something, but he was already here expecting me to have dinner already made.

"Where the hell have you been?" He slurred from the couch.

"I was at school sir, I'll have dinner ready soon," I answered him, moving quickly.

Luckily, he didn't say anything and then went back to drinking in front of the TV. I scavenged through the empty cupboards managing to only find a half empty box of spaghetti noodles and a jar of marinara sauce. I quickly put some water on the stove to boil while I heated up the sauce and cooked the single serving of noodles. Putting it nicely on a plate, I walked into the living room and set it down on the coffee table in front of him. He looked down at it, and then back up to me with angry red eyes.

"What is this?" he asked, sending fear through my body.

"Spaghetti sir..." I quickly answered. He jumped to his feet and picked up the plate, chucking it against the wall behind me. I flinched slightly as the plate shattered and hit the floor.

"I hate spaghetti! Can't you ever get anything right?" he screamed, grabbing a fist full of my shirt and shaking me around.

"I'm sorry sir! I can make you something else." I quickly said, shaking. I knew I was in for it this time because there was nothing else to cook in the kitchen, and he'd be more furious then ever about it. He looked at me in disgust, before dropping my shirt and pushing me away.

"Clean this shit up, I'm going out," he spit at me.

I dropped to my knees and started picking up the shattered plate until I heard the front door slam and the truck screech out of the driveway. My entire body relaxed some, I'd gotten off easy tonight.

For the next few days, my dad hadn't come home. It wasn't the first time he'd disappeared for a few days. he always seemed to come crawling back at some point. I actually really enjoyed when he was gone, who the hell wouldn't? But soon, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into nearly 2 months and I still hadn't heard from him.

It wasn't until I was walking down my street after a long school day that I saw two cars parked in front of my house. The landlords and a police cruiser. I stopped dead in my tracks as an officer came walking out of the front door shaking his head and then spotting me down the street and pointing in my direction. The officer and his partner started waving and jogging towards me, so I dropped my backpack and turned to run the other way.

I don't know why I ran, but I ran a couple of blocks until I hit the woods just on the outside of town. My dad was dead, that I knew for sure, that's why the landlord had brought the police over, so they could take me to child protective services. But I'd rather take my chances out on my own then swim through foster care. I was the only one who had taken care of myself, between going to school where I could get a free meal, and shoplifting to feed my sad excuse of a dead father so he wouldn't beat me. Life as I knew it had just ended...

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