"Father..." I hold my hands out in front of him and back myself under the doorway of my workroom. All of my scrapbooks and pictures are tossed in various places around the room. The books from my bookshelf are also mixed in with stray pictures, torn and bent.

"Were you going to tell me that you have been seeing your step-family?" my dad shouts at the book.

I'm overwhelmed with a sudden, stupid bravery, "Maybe I would've but not when you dig through my private work. I thought we agreed you wouldn't be coming in this room."

"What? So you can hide everything?" he raises his voice.

We stare at each other for a minute, waiting for the other to react first. I turn towards the stairs and start to make a run for it. He won't be able to catch me.

I'm not even given a chance to think. The hood from my jacket chokes me and I am yanked to the ground. The back of my head hits the ground and the world turns black. I don't know what I planned on saying, but I couldn't make a sound. The familiar floating specks begin to float around eyes. My father pulls the curtains together and skirts quickly around me to slam the bedroom door. I take a chance and grab his foot, but all that I have in my hands is the thinning air. With a quick flick of his wrist, my father pulls out his belt and whips it against my chest. I bite down on my lip and muffle the oncoming shriek.

"Where were you?" he asks between gritted teeth.

"At a friend's house!" I breathe out.

The same stinging sensation comes onto my chest again, "Where were you?" he asks with more force.

I clench my teeth together, "None of your business."

"You were out with a girl weren't you?" he says slyly. He lets the trail of his belt touch the ground.

"No," I growl at him, "That's where you and I are different." It earns me another slap with the belt. My entire body feels like it is vibrating and I yell out in pain, tears form in the corners of my eyes. I press them tightly together in hopes to hide them.

"Get up," he orders and steps back.

I don't move. I can't.

"Get up!" he says again, louder this time.

"I can't!" I shout just as loudly.

He scoffs and storms out of the room, dragging his belt behind him like a tail. I follow the jingling sound with my ears until it's gone. I lie on the ground, breathing heavily. I grab the leg of my desk and try to catch my breath. It's over.

But it's not.

A pair of shoes stands in the doorway. I trace my sore eyes up the stiff legs and find a heavy, wooden baseball bat held tightly in his hand. The belt jingles around his pants, unbuckled and ready to fly out if need be.

"So you could get up," he cracks his neck.

"Wait..." I hold my hands out in front of me and say as calmly as I can muster. He comes closer and hits the bat against his palm.

"Don't!" I cry as he lifts the bat above his head. It plummets down onto my stomach. The pain spreads throughout my body in slow motion. The skin around my chest breaks open almost immediately. My body convulses and any amount of strength I once had in my body falls away.

"Stop!" I scream before he knocks the wind out of me again. A deafening ring fills my ears.

"Shut up!" I watch his lips. Now everything begins to move in slow motion.

Maybe this is it. I have to be near death anyways. So much for turning 18, living a happy life, away from my father, making a relationship. The times I'll never have play in front of my eyes, showing me the memories I'm yet to have. It's so unbearably sad that I'm completely unable to fight for myself.

My eyes stare still on the ceiling and numbness settles in. My body reacts to the continuous hits, but I can no longer feel or hear anything. I patiently wait for the blackness to absorb me. I roll my eyes towards the door and watch it close behind him. I'm not dead. I'd rather be dead living in fear of being beat whenever I do something wrong. I can't continue to live like this. I'm tired of making lies about the bruises on my body. I can't live the man who uses money to pay off his apologies that only last a few days.

The blurry mound on the floor focuses. My backpack is left open and untouched. My phone and camera are tucked tightly inside of it. There is a puddle of blood on the floor, which I only assume is mine. Slowly, I will each muscle in my body to move. I lift my hand in front of my face and lift my shirt up. A mass of purple, red, and pink flesh covers my body. Drops of blood run from my chest with no sign of stopping. My eye was twitches and tears begin to fall like rain. I bite down on my lip again, tasting blood once again. I can only hear my heart thumping and the echoes in my head.

Suddenly, my ears pop and I can hear again. My throat aches from screaming and I slow them to a stop. I loosen the tightness in my eyes and allow tears to flow down my cheeks.

My phone buzzes loudly against my camera. It goes to voicemail out loud and repeats the message out loud.

"Hi," I listen to the voice. Meliah's voice, "Caleb, I know I just dropped you off... but I don't think I thanked you enough. You were there for me during a pretty dramatic time. I don't think you know how important that was for me. Thanks for coming to dinner at my house, it was nice to have a visitor who didn't complain about the food, even when it was leftovers," she chuckles to herself.

The soft sound of her voice pushes a smile that was too difficult to keep alive, "Well, I hope this wasn't too weird of a call, because I would like you to come over again sometime. My parents seem to like you. Sorry if they were crabby, it's been a long day for all of us. I guess I'll see you soon? Bye."

It was enough. It gave me the strength to grab my backpack from the ground. I limp to the window and make a short jump to the ground. I land right on my feet and wince. Every step felt like the bones in my legs were being squeezed together.

I retrace my steps back to Meliah's house. It's not too far away, but the pain makes it feel like miles without ending. She made me feel safe and comfortable. Her house felt more like home than my own place.