When I got home, I wasn't surprised to see that I was alone; my father was supposed to be working late, as was my mother. I was going to be on my own for the evening, but that may have been lucky for me; if the school had tried to call, they had missed it. I was temporarily safe.

I don't know what finally did it to me, but I snapped a bit; maybe it was the sunset, clearing the haze of abuse and bad memories from within my head, or maybe it was a spur of the moment kind of idea, but I felt it deep within me that I needed some kind of radical change to keep going. I needed something that would make me happy, even if only for ten minutes to help me cope with all of the bullshit around me.

I dropped the needle on my new Aerosmith record, "Night in the Ruts" (that I had stolen), turning it up way louder that I was used to. My heart beat faster, but knowing that I was alone in the house gave me a bit of adrenaline fueled courage. This alone was a bold act, and I was terrified, but I didn't care as much for once.

What could I possibly do that was different other than playing my music louder? No matter what I did, I was going to be in trouble, so I may as well have done whatever I wanted. The first act of business, I had decided, was to leave my earrings in. I wasn't allowed to have pierced ears, but in a moment of 'I want to be like the other girls,' I had pierced them myself, only taking them out when my parents were around.

I usually had my hair down, so no one really noticed, but that gave me an idea... With one look in the mirror, I grabbed the scissors, cutting shaggy fringe-like bangs that still hung over my eyes a bit and chopped my hair to my shoulder, which was a shocking difference seeing as it almost went down to my butt before. Dear god, that was a lot of hair.

I stared at the mess in the sink, shaking slightly when I realized that I had done something so drastic on a whim. I knew it was just hair; it would grow back soon enough, but maybe I had overdone it... There was a fine line between too much and just right in my head, and this definitely crossed it and went straight into overboard, but it kind of made me feel kind of good.

In the last twenty minutes or so, I wasn't sure if I losing my mind, or becoming my own person. I was losing it, wasn't I? What was going on with me? Soon, my nerves really kicked in and tears began to run down my face, which I quickly tried to wipe away with shaky fingers.

"Okay, Sadie," I mumbled, gripping the rim of the porcelain sink, trying to steady my hands as I looked in the mirror. "One last time," I whispered to my reflection. "One. Last. Time. If things don't change soon, I'm out of here," I promised myself. "Things have to turn around eventually. Three years is too long. One last chance for them. Show them what you're made of. You can take it."

After giving myself a little pep talk, I cleaned up the mess from my hair before heading into the kitchen to get something to eat. For the first time in months, I wasn't afraid to live in my own house, simply because my parents were at work. Granted, I still did all of my chores, and took care of everything I was supposed to, but that was mostly out of habit; I knew that either way I was going to get in trouble- at least from cutting my hair if they didn't notice the earrings.

I started the record over again, sitting beside the window as I thought about what I was going to do when I turned eighteen. Before then, probably when I turned sixteen, I'd get a job and save up some money to be able to leave. I'd have to take things out when my parents weren't home- one box at a time. It was slow, but that was the best way... plus, it wasn't like I had a lot of stuff.

Whatever I had to do, I would do it so long as it promised me a way out of this house. I didn't care if I randomly got a pen pal and hitch hiked across the entire country to live with them. Even crossing a city limit would be enough for me; I doubted my parents would look for me if I left; they only cared when I didn't do something. There would be no stopping me when I decided to leave.

"One more time. One more chance," I chanted in my head, 'Chiquita' blaring behind me.

Things were going to get better. They had to. I liked to think that I was a strong believer in Karma, but I was having trouble really buying into it with all of the shit going on around me. I hadn't done anything wrong, and my parents treated me like shit and resented me for no reason. Karma had failed me there.

Overall, I was a good kid; I did well in school, but I was often bored by how slow it moved, which was annoying considering that I was fifteen and had three more years to go. It was ridiculous to me that my attention span was all over the place like it was; I couldn't focus or sit still for too long. Maybe it was my constant state of anxiety, but I wasn't sure of anything other than the fact that it was incredibly annoying.

After Alex had turned on me (not to be too dramatic), things had gone even more down hill; I had no one to talk to, which made it harder for me because everything was so bottled up. I'm not claiming that I ever told him about my parents treating me the way they did, because I didn't say a word, but having a friend was nice.

The only thing to distract me from my thoughts was the sound of the needle scratching across the record, making my heart stop in my chest as I turned around with a jump.

My eyes were met with the terrifying sight of my father, drunkenly leering at me from my doorway.

"Miss'd a few classes today, did we?" he snarled, slurring slightly. "Yeah, I caught you now, you lil shit!" he yelled, lunging toward me.

I let out an accidental scream as he reached out to grab me, stepping back (which was a just as bad of an idea as trying to block him).

"What the fuck did you do?" he roared, grabbing a fistful of, my now short, hair. "Who said you could do this?!" he pulled my hair harder. "And ears pierced, too? Your mom's gonna have a fit!" he screamed again, turning more and more red by the second.

I knew by now that this was just the warm up; it was about to get a lot worse unless he was too drunk to really get into it.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I-I'm sorry! I just wanted-"

"I don't give a shit!" he yelled, throwing me back against the wall. "It's not about you!"

"Please, stop," I begged, tears streaming down my face as I held my hands up in defense, which was (once again) a terrible fucking idea.

Without another word, he punched me as hard as he could, giving me what I knew was going to be a horribly dark black eye. I slid to the floor in shock, no longer crying as I tried to stay awake as the feeling of dizziness made my head swim.

"Get up!" he yelled, doing his best to pull me off the floor. When I didn't get up (more like couldn't), he kicked me sharply in the ribs, causing me to topple over and lay on the floor gasping for breath, hoping and praying that he would get it over with quickly.

"Piece of shit," he muttered, walking out and slamming the door so hard that a small picture frame fell off of the wall and shattered.

I laid on the floor, wheezing and holding my face, trying not to let my nose bleed on the carpet. I was crying from the burning pain in my ribs, but I was also grateful that he was too drunk and worn out to take it any further than he had.

"One more time. One more chance," I mentally reminded myself.

This had been the last time; the last chance. I was done. I was finally going to leave... as soon as I had the strength and energy to get off of the floor.

The house eventually grew silent aside from the TV static and the sound of my father snoring on the couch, so I slowly crawled over to my desk, pulling myself up. I hadn't moved for what must have been hours, and when I finally did, my body ached from being on the hard floor.

As quietly as I could, I grabbed a duffel bag and slowly packed the few things that were the most important to me; some clothes, my five records, all of which I had stolen, and what little money I had saved up.

I stuck my head out of my room, and seeing that my father was passed out on the couch, silently padded to the bathroom to grab my toothbrush and a few other things, freezing instantly when I stepped on a creaky floor board.

When I heard nothing, I continued to the bathroom, where I almost passed out from the shock of seeing how pale I was. The sight of the dried blood on my face and chest wasn't helping me stay calm by a long shot, but I still did my best to control my breathing.

"How far am I taking this?" I wondered as I looked through the drawers for any money that my parents had hidden. Considering that I had found fifteen bucks, it wasn't a bad idea. Alex's voice rang in my head, "go big, or go home," something he used to say when we were kids. That was exactly what I was going to do.

Sneaking into the kitchen, I rifled through my dad's wallet, taking all of his money, which was about eighty-five dollars in cash. After checking the pockets of his coat, I snuck into their bedroom, taking my aunt's old leather jacket (that my mother had stolen before she basically cast her out of the family) and a pair of sunglasses that my mother kept in a random 'junk' drawer. Grabbing a couple of other things like my birth certificate and other important looking papers, I scurried back to my room to made sure everything that I needed was packed up.

After taking one more look around, I turned out my lights, tossed my duffel bag out of the window, and jumped out after it, staying low as car headlights passed my house. There was no going back now; no way. I hurried down the street, ducking behind cars and going through people's backyards with no destination in mind.

This was it; this was me breaking free- earlier than expected, yes, but I was looking forward to it. I was leaving it all behind with no one beside me and nowhere to go, but I knew that it was going to be worth it; anything was better than what I had dealt with for the last eight years.

I took one more look around my street before heading for the main road, somehow feeling like heading to Los Angeles was the thing to do; in a big city like that, there were countless opportunities for a new start, and the possibilities for what I could do were practically endless.