I ran out of the door, my heart pounding like crazy, suddenly I felt something wrapping its arms around me, I got caught. I panicked; I couldn't move. I struggled with all my strength, but he held me too tightly. He threw me onto our driveway; the concrete scraped my skin, burning it. I looked up, and dad was standing in front of me with an angry look on his face. I felt pain, then more pain, again and again. It spread all over my body as he kept hitting me. Mom ran out of the house to help me, but dad pushed her aside. This was my chance; it was now or never. With all my strength, I kicked dad straight in the crotch and got up. Dad let out a painful scream and fell to his knees. I ran straight to the car and locked it. My hands were shaking as I turned the key in the ignition, put it in reverse, and backed out of the driveway. I saw dad running in front of the car. I looked him straight in the eyes, switched it to drive, and stepped on the gas without hesitation. Naturally, he jumped out of the way, yelling. All I heard was my name as I left him behind.

I kept driving, my heart still beating as the adrenaline rushed through me. I had a couple of suitcases in the backseat, and next to my bag on the passenger's seat was sandwiches in a plastic bag that mom had made me. I had no clue where I was going or where I was supposed to go. I only had the address on a tiny piece of paper.

After a few hours of driving I noticed the sun had already started setting, and I began to think about this morning;

I woke up to the smell of coffee, but I was the only one home. This wasn't unusual since mom and dad both worked relatively early and had already left for work. Mom had left me some coffee, knowing I would wake up later. I got up and made my way downstairs to the kitchen, half-asleep; poured myself a cup. Enjoying the empty, quiet house, I walked to the living room. Our house wasn't anything special. It was your typical home, though everything was brand new and in a white theme, because dad thinks it emits wealth and a good life. My mother and I hated the bland white aesthetic. She used to tell me stories about her house growing up and how it was filled with colors and chaos. Her mother, my grandmother, grew her own herbs and loved plants in general, so the house always felt as if it was alive. When my parents first moved in together, mom convinced dad to let her keep some of the furniture my grandma had given her in her will, but he made her keep them either in their bedroom, attic, or my room so that guests wouldn't see.

Everyone would see a happy little family on the outside, but that was far from the truth. I haven't seen anyone from my mother's side in years because dad thinks they are crazy and wants nothing to do with them. Now it's been so long I can hardly remember what they look like; most I have are vague memories from when my grandma passed. I was ten, so I have very few memories of her.

I walked over to the window and looked outside. It was foggy but seemed it was going to be a beautiful day. I sighed and took a second to myself before starting my routines that get me through yet another day. “The day begins with a fog but reveals its beauty as it wakes up,” I said to myself. Though for me, I live in a constant fog. After finishing my coffee, I brushed my teeth, got dressed, and left for school.

When I came home from school, that's when it all started. First, I noticed that the back door of my car was open. I wasn’t allowed to drive to school since we lived close enough for me to bike or walk. I wasn’t even allowed to carry the keys, so they were usually locked up in dads office. I peeked inside and saw there were a few suitcases.

"What are these doing here?" I thought to myself.

Mom hadn't mentioned anything about us going somewhere. I closed the car door and faced the side door that leads to the kitchen; I walked towards it. My shoes hitting the concrete tiles, making a slight clicking sound. I passed the rose bushes my mother adored and listened as the wind chime sang. It was this god-awful wind chime with odd "steps" leading to the top where a bluebird rested. I hated it, but my mother loved it for some reason and refused to get rid of it. Even though the bird was cracked and some of the tiles were missing.

When I went inside, I saw mom writing something on a piece of paper, her hands were shaking, and she looked troubled.

"Mom?" I asked carefully.

"Oh, Rosalie darling, thank god you're home already. I need you to go to your room and pack everything you think is necessary. I left a bag on your bed. Use that." She said in a nervous tone.

"What-," I mumbled, confused

"Now, Rosalie!" She hastily stated.

I decided not to ask any further questions; I nodded and headed straight upstairs to my room.

I opened the door to my room and saw the bag mom mentioned on my bed. I picked it up; it was a sports bag from when I trained in martial arts. It brought back some pleasant memories.

"What the hell am I supposed to pack?" I said out loud, looking around my room.

First, my eyes went to my nightstand. There was a picture of my mom and me beside my alarm clock. I picked up the frame and put it in the bag. Above my bed was a long line of trophies and medals from my surfing days. I loved it so much, and it always felt like a big part of my life, well, that plus boxing, martial arts, and working out.

I picked my favorite trophy, the one I won from the regional championship tournament, and then I walked to the other side of the room to my dresser. It was a dark wood dresser with black and gold detailing; it belonged to my grandmother. I wish I could take it with me. I ran my hand on the surface, sliding it across it and down to the golden brass nubs that hinged when lifted. I opened the dresser and took some clothes.

Under my clothes, the bottom board came off, revealing a secret compartment. I don't know what it was used for, but it was big enough to fit two big books at least. I used the space to hide things dads disapproved of, such as manga and cigarettes.

After closing the drawer, I went to my closet and took my favorite leather jacket and my surfing suit just in case.

I went back to the dresser, crouched on the side, and felt around under the dresser for a bit of piece that could be slid to the side, revealing a hollow spot. I reached into it and pulled out a necklace my mom gave me when I turned ten. It was around the same time grandma passed. It was a silver chain with a ring on it. She said it was passed down to all the women in her family when they turned a certain age. I never understood why I couldn’t just wear the ring but let it go. Dad never liked it and thought of it as trash, so he grabbed it from me and tossed it in the garbage on my birthday. He said I shouldn't walk around wearing old trinkets that were an eyesore and bought me a gold necklace with a tiny star on it the next day.

I told mom I salvaged it from the trash the next morning when dad had already left for work, and that's when she mentioned the dresser's little secret. That's what she liked to call it. She used to say that every piece of furniture has its own story. She never told me about the bottom of the drawer, which makes me think if she even knew about it and if there were more to find. I wore the necklace daily or had it on me in any way possible, keeping it hidden.

I gathered a few more things like jewelry and my headphones and took one last look at my room, the white walls that I had painted waves onto, my bed with the best mattress ever, my wooden writing table, and those god-awful curtains mom made me put up.

"ROSE! IT'S TIME TO GO NOW!" Mom shouted up the stairs.

I closed the door, locked it, and went downstairs.

"Okay, mom, I did what you asked. Now I need some answers." I stared at her waiting for a response.

"Just a second, honey, quickly take these to the car, then we can talk." Mom said, handing me plastic bags.

I sighed and, confused, walked outside to the car. I threw the bags onto the passenger's seat and headed back inside.

"Now, please, mom, what is going on." I sat down and looked at her.

"I'm getting freaked out..." I said softly, sitting down across from her.

She took a deep breath and looked at me with a severe expression. I had never seen mom like this. She looked so... afraid.

"You need to get out of here, Rose, take this address, and go there. You will be safe there. There's so much I want to tell you, but I don't have the time. I promised myself not just to sit and do nothing; I've had enough." I knew what she meant, and I choked. It felt like there was something in my throat. I couldn't say a word; I just stared at mom.

"What about you," I whispered.

"I will be fine, don't worry about me, I promise. Now the priority is to get you out of here before your dad..." She stopped as the front door opened.

Dad walked inside. I looked at mom, then at me. All color from Mom's face just vanished. It looked like she had seen a ghost; I wish it would have been a ghost.

"What's going on here." He grunted and placed his briefcase on the side table.

"I-I was just telling Rosalie here to be back by dinner. She is going to Ambers to study." Mom's voice was shaking as she forced a smile on her face. She turned to me and nodded to go along with it.

"Actually, dad started and turned to us. “Rosalie is grounded. I got a call from your teacher today, and he said you were being a little bitch again, talking back to your teacher. How often have I said to stop acting like a child and focus on your studies?" He said, demanding an answer.

"I don't know. A few." I said mockingly. I knew I was feeding a fire, but I wanted to get a few punches in before leaving.

He shot me a dirty look, and I saw his hand was curled into a fist.

"Are you just going to sit there and let your daughter talk to me like this? could you be less of a goddamn pushover Alison," Dad said, looking at mom.

Mom's face was now like a sheet of paper. Like she was going to throw up any second now.

"Rosalie darling, I thought we had discussed this; you need to focus on your studies." Mom said with a gentle tone.

"Like this brat is going to listen to that tone. For god's sake, have some backbone. Stop letting this screw-up get away with everything. Can't you smell the cigarette smoke on her?!" He shouted.

"How about you stop trying to control my life? I’m a human being, not a puppet." I said and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Are you talking back to me?" His voice was angry now.

“I did with the teacher. How are you any different?” I said, raising my voice now.

Mom put her hands on the table and looked at both of us.

"Now, now, let's all calm down. We can discuss this later when Rosalie gets back; in the meantime, I will make some coffee and start working on dinner." Mom said as she was getting up.

"No. Rosalie is not going anywhere. As I said, she is grounded." He said with a calm but angry tone. He walked over to mom and pushed mom back down into her chair by her shoulders.

"The hell I am." I scoffed.

"What?" Dad looked at me, confused, like I said something he couldn't comprehend.

I saw his grip tighten on moms shoulder to where his knuckles were turning white.

"How often do I have to tell you not to use that sort of language in my house?" He grunted.

He let go of mom and walked over to me, and grabbed my wrist.

My blood felt like it was boiling.

"I'm sorry, what I meant to say is fuck off, and I hope you burn in hell," I said and smiled.

His eyes filled with rage as he grabbed me by my wrist and threw me near the door. As soon as my body slammed against the wood walls, mom rushed in front of me.

It hurt like hell. I saw mom standing in front of me, yelling at my father, begging him to stop. I saw this as an opportunity to run, so I did... and well, you know the rest. Now I'm here, although I'm not sure where "here" even is...