The screams grew louder. The constant fighting back and forth, I couldn’t take it anymore. I slammed the door shut and locked it. Not knowing whether to stay or leave, I looked in the mirror. Makeup was smeared all over my face, and my cheeks stained black from crying. There was no way out; my options were clear as day, stay or go. Night fell down upon the yelling and cursing, it seemed to be louder than ever now. I screamed over the sound but it was no use. Day after day, night after night; the screams, cries, and cursing just seemed to fade away. It was around midnight when the blood curdling scream woke me.

The house was silent, it gave me the creeps. When I looked out of my bedroom door all I saw was my dad passed out on the couch and my mother crying. The look in her eyes was horrible; a young mother of only thirty-three had been though too much already. All the abuse from my father, all the nights she spent alone drinking. She had no right to be put through this torture. Looking in her eyes I knew I had to leave, but packing my bags hurt me inside. I’ve spent seventeen years in this house, it’s broken beyond repair but it’s still my home. Hopping out the window, I looked at everything. My childhood was in this room. The first time I cried myself to sleep, the first hit I took, the first time I cut my wrist, everything. I spit on the floor and left. Broken dreams and shattered promises left me as I walked away.

Alone, walking down the cobble stone streets I could finally think clearly. I checked the time, 9:15. It wasn’t that late, but I had nowhere to go. My parents wouldn’t dare come to search for me, they were too busy fighting and drinking. My parents aren’t bad people at all; other things just got in the way and hindered their ability to parent correctly. I walked for what seemed like an eternity then I stopped in this field. Looking around, this tree caught my eye. It was all by its self, alone with no one to care for it; like me. I laid down under the tree and fell asleep. Hours passed; I woke up to see my best friend laying next me. He was amazing; his blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, his black hair shined. Why was he here?
“What are you doing here loser?” I said as I smiled.
“Oh you know, just painting,” he replied sarcastically.

I giggled. He always knew how to make me laugh. Even when I was in the worst possible depression he could brighten my day. I don’t know if I could live without him. I loved this kid and couldn’t let him go.
“I went to your window but you weren’t there...” he said quietly

I couldn’t say anything. He knew my life, everything I’ve been through. All the heartache, all the pain, he knew.
“I ran away, I couldn’t take the screaming anymore, my parents don’t ever notice me anyways. Sometimes I wish I weren’t even here…”
“Babe don’t say that… you know you’re very special to me and all of our friends…”
He stopped for a moment.
“Come on lets go.”
I didn’t question, I just followed him. He took my hand and ran for what seemed like forever. We ended up at this abandoned house near the train station. The train went rolling on by, louder than I had ever heard it. No words were spoken; every emotion I felt just seemed to pour out that night. Months passed and I moved on, my family wasn’t important to me anymore. All I wanted to focus on was building my future.
After some years my life was set. I had my best friend who was now my fiance with me and we were perfect. I got a letter one afternoon from my mother. It came from out of the blue. She wrote about how worthless I was to her and how she never wanted me. She wrote about every horrible events that she caused me during my childhood. The single thing that hurt the most was that she said ‘the night you ran away, after your father got up from his nap, we were going to kill you.’ I couldn’t understand why she said that to me. I cared about her when no one else was there. I loved my mother even if she didn’t love me back.
I was in complete shock; I started thinking about my past. Every disturbing memory flooded my system like a tsunami. I cried for hours; I couldn’t take it. I didn’t want to live anymore. If my parents didn’t want me then what good was I to the rest of the world. I debated for hours on end; live or die. I found my conclusion. I went to the bedside table where we kept the gun. Shaking I picked it up; I made my way to the living room. I couldn’t do it. I threw the gun on the couch and screamed. How could I just leave him here; how could I not want to live. I picked up the gun one last time and put it to my head. My fiance came home to find me with the gun in my hand. I pointed to the letter on the table, he read it.
He said, “If I were you, I’d put that away. See, you’re just wasted in thinking about the past again. Darling, you’ll be okay.”
I said, “If you were me, you’d do the same. ‘Cause I can’t take anymore. I’ll tear the shades and close the door. Everything’s not alright and I could rather….”
Before I could pull the trigger he ran toward me and grabbed the gun. I collapsed on the floor and just balled. He put the gun away and came to my side. He cradled me in his arms, I looked at him and we kissed. We grabbed a blanket and laid on the floor for the rest of the night. Before we fell asleep.

He whispered “Darling you’ll be okay.”