I walked out the door with screaming and yelling behind me, I’m never going home again. For sixteen years now some would think that I would be used to screaming childish parents but its like nails on a chalkboard. The sound is dreadful, painful, and it feels like it will never end. The loud sounds of shattering dishes going against the walls and the floor then wasting money on new dishes that won’t last a night. Always having to hide and keep quiet when the landlord comes to collect unpaid bills. I hold my brother while barricaded in my room because my so called parents are doing drugs with old creepy men who they call “close friends”. The next morning I left to the gas station near my house to grab some food for me and my brother, Asher. I got some bread, jelly, and cranberry juice. As I head down the aisle to the cash register I reach in my pocket and grab my wallet only to find that my money was gone. My parents probably took it for the cocaine they use. I slid my wallet back into my pocket and started down more aisles’ just to figure out what to do. The cashier had his eye on me and I could tell he was acting cautious. Asher hasn’t had real food for awhile, just leftovers from the past couple weeks. I want to provide for my brother since my parents aren’t capable. I watched as the cashier got a phone call and turned his head to pick up the phone. This is the time I decided to take advantage of and without hesitating I ran out the doors. I shortly heard a man run out and yell from behind me, I cut down an alley way that ran into my backyard. I walked inside and everyone was still drugged up laying on the couch and floor. I got to my brother and fed him the bread and jelly along with his favorite, cranberry juice. About an hour later my parent’s drug hippies began to leave, my door slammed open and my mom walked in all zombie like. She began yelling at me and Asher and explaining how useless we were to her and my father. In mid yelling a knock at the door arose. Thank God, I thought. “Police, open the door!”. Crap. I suppose the cashier recognized me and I was caught. “Sit down and shut up!” shouted my mom. “Is your daughter home?” “Marissa!” I walked out and realized I had no way out of this, I might as well confess. “Ris, why didn’t you ask me for some money? I would have given it to you.” Said my mother with her fake sympathy and her rotten smelly teeth. The cashier allowed us just to pay back the money with no consequences. Although, I would of much rather take the consequences from stealing than being home with the wrath of my deadbeat parents. WACK! A stinging pain raced across my face. “What do you think you’re doing bringing the cops to our house!?” My mother shouted. Yelling from both sides of the room, Asher began to cry from the bedroom door. I watched as my sluggish drugged father got up from the couch and walked towards my brother. I turned to get to Asher before my dad did but my mother’s hand struck my arm and grabbed tightly where I couldn’t get away. She started spitting words in my face hard as stone while Asher is screaming and crying in the other room with my father. I pushed my mother away and ran into the room where my dad was standing over Asher about to hurt him. I grabbed Asher from underneath my father and took off out the door. 7 months down the road I’m now living with a group of friends I met at a party not to long after left home with Ash. My brother was placed in a fosters home about 4 months ago after I found out I was pregnant, I knew I couldn’t take care of two children and my friends definitely didn’t want kids everywhere. I don’t want to have this baby but I don’t know what else to do with it so I ease the pain with drugs and cocaine. I’ll probably treat this baby girl the same way my mom treated me.