My phone buzzed silently in my hand. I brought it close to my face. For some reason, the brightness was turned down very low; I couldn't see what it was trying to tell me.

"Take medication" it read. Every night was the same. Brush teeth and hair, change into pajamas, take medicine, and toss and turn during a fitful night of sleep.

My hair was slightly tangled. I itched to run my fingers through the dirty locks, but resisted since my fingers were bound to get stuck and make it all much worse.

I wondered if my mom was serious. Did she really just kick me out? It was an honest mistake, one failed quiz. Right?

A quiz that has ruined my life, apparently.

All because of Zach and his stupid pretty face. In the end, he ditched me. Was I not good enough for him? For Mom? For anyone?

I stood up and brushed the dirt off the back of my jeans. I huffed out a quick breath and walked up to the front door. I could feel my key that was hooked onto my belt loop bump against my leg as I approached the white door.

I brought my hand up to knock on the door. Of my own house. The darkness from the windows made me pause. What if they were sleeping?

I laid my hand against the cool wood and bit my lip. Stalking off the porch, I jogged around to the side of the house and scowered the paneling for the window. My eyes locked on a white-frammed window 15 feet off the ground.

A shed was built by the garage a couple years ago. It was an off white and had a dark gray roof. If you climbed on top of the garbage can, you could pull yourself up onto the mostly flat garage roof. The window has been unlocked since I was in 6th grade, for when Mom tried to get me into painting the scenery. When I just couldn't get it, she slammed it shut and never went back into that room again. Neither did I. It screamed "room of failure" at me anytime I was near.

Of course, like every cliche movie ever, under the two-foot gap between the roof and window, a blooming rose bush waited. The thorns were minimal, but not ideal.

I climbed up onto the trashcan. The plastic sunk under my weight. The last time I tried this, I was 12 and much lighter. My cousin dared me and I was already losing the game. I don't like her very much.

I jumped up and pulled myself up onto the roof of the garage. My knees stung and started to turn red. I figured I scraped them against the paneling.

Shakily walking across the roof, I neared the side of the house. My fingers brushed against the cool surface of the house walls. I could see the bright white frame of my target. I leaned forward and grazed the frame that jutted out by an inch. The window sill stuck out by a few inches, just enough to stand on.

I stretched my foot out and it hovered over the ledge. I would have to drop a little to actually stand. Grabbing the frame with the tips of my fingers, I walked, more like fell, onto the little ledge.

My breathing became uneven. I was standing on a narrow wooden sill, grasping the frame with fear. The room was dark and no light peeked from under the door. If I were to bend down to open the window, I would loose my balance and fall.

I decided to try and open it with my foot. If I could lift it by the handle that stuck out towards the bottom, I might be able to open the rest with my hand.

Hooking my converse under the handle, I pushed my foot up as I gripped the frame with a steel, but slightly sweaty grip. Yet, it didn't budge. I peered inside and saw the knob turned to the right. Locked. When did that happen?

My breaths quickened. My stomach was practically against the glass and one foot was dangling over the edge. I looked back at the garage roof and I knew that I couldn't step all the way up there without falling.

I looked back through the window and Salome stared back at me. I smiled at her and she shook her head. She sighed as she opened the window with a click.

Helping me inside I stalked off quietly and quickly.

"Mom kicked me out," I huffed. "I'm just grabbing my stuff and I'll go." I walked around Salome and wiped a fallen tear. She didn't follow.

I walked into my room and into my closet. On the highest shelf, my blue suitcase waited. I grabbed it by the black handle and eased it off the shelf. It was very big in my opinion, three feet tall and two feet wide.

I speed-walked into my bathroom and hauled my shower kit into the waterproof compartment. My travel kit consisted of shampoo, bodywash, conditioner, lotion, shave gel and razors, face washes and masks, as well as a fluffy blue loofah.

I grabbed my hairbrush and debated on whether to grab my curling wand. I had no idea where I was going to go. I left it there and jogged into my closet.

I grabbed some jeans and leggings as well as some skirts and shorts. My suitcase slowly filled up with shirts and dresses. I only packed a pair of flip flops and some white wedges along with the converse on my feet. I spotted my "favorite" t-shirt on the floor.

I scoffed as I picked it up. The fabric felt soft, but not enough to persuade me to pack it. Tossing it into the basket, I grabbed a different pajama shirt instead.

I walked over to the bookshelf that stood in the corner. A breath escaped my mouth as I spotted the book, "Many Years". I opened it up and smiled. Last year, I stole some money from the safe and carved out a hole in the pages. I had managed to stuff around 7,000 dollars in the space. I grabbed my backpack like purse and stuffed the cash into the bottom. I grabbed my phone and charger as well as my earbuds. I tucked my passport away, safe in there too.

I finished packing my suitcase with little things and zipped it up. Everything fit nicely within the space. I shrugged on a light jacket and tugged on the straps of my backpack purse that hung around my shoulders. My hair was wrapped in a top knot on my head.

I grabbed my suitcase and wheeled in out into the hallway. I jogged to the door and unlocked it slowly. The click rang in my ears. My sunglasses sat on my head by my bun.

I turned on my car after I lugged my suitcase into the backseat. The weight was slightly overbearing, but not as much as the fear of forgetting something crucial only to not be able to get it after. This was it, no returning.

The headlights blared bright on the house. A room flickered to life and the expensive curtains fluttered open. My dad stood and looked at me with bleary eyes. A slight frown overtook his features. I felt bad for leaving him. He didn't do anything wrong to me, but this was in my best interest. In everyone's.

This place was toxic to me. My anxiety had gotten worse over the years as I always tried to be the best daughter, student, person I could be.

With a light smile, I pulled away from the house and into the fading night, back to Charlie's. My dad's sad smile circled around in my mind as my house disappeared from my vision.