The warm salty tears were rolling down my face like falling rain. All I could think about was getting away, going anywhere as long as I was away from them. As I ran to my neighbor's house I tried to think of what my excuse would be this time. But this time was different; I was not going back no matter what it took. The next 30 minutes were just a blur. "Someone's on the way," I remember hearing. Then came a threatening phone call saying I better come back or the cops were going to be called. Sitting on the dusty rust colored couch I thought, "I"m only in ninth grade. Would the cops really arrest me?" Next thing I know I was riding in my Grandma's car to my best friends house. I remember my Grandma crying as she drove trying not to let me see, but I could still hear her muffled sniffs. .

My dad always said, "I was no angel." And I guess in someway that was true. I knew I was not the perfect teenager. I was known for talking on the phone for hours, being "boy crazy", and all the other adolescent things that parents just don't seem to understand. All those things did not constitute for the pain I was about to receive from my dad. .

I thought I was going to have the perfect family. My dad remarried and I was going to have a stepmother and a stepsister. Growing up as an only child, having a stepmother and stepsister was one of the most thrilling ideas possible to me at the time. I would soon realize that this dream would become a nightmare.

After six months of all of us living together, everything started going downhill. My dad started drinking again, not the occasional drinking either. I can remember many of nights waking up to my dad stumbling up the steps. After this started my stepmom started taking her stress on me, it was like she was punishing me for my dad's mistakes. I was grounded constantly and was reminded daily of how I would never make anything out of myself.