Surfin' the Clouds

2 ~ My "Home"

          I quietly creak open the front door to make sure my dad's not around. The old teal-colored paint scratches my arm as it brushes across the peeled sections of the door. I make my way to my room as quickly but quietly as possible, carefully placing my foot one in front of the other.
A foot slides under mine causing me to trip and my chin hits the hard, cold, tile-floor underneath me. I rub my chin and look at the red blood smeared across my hand. "Why don't you take a look at this, Sloan." My dad hands me a paper and written across it was a big, fat, red, F. The dark circles under his eyes didn't make his scary appearance any better.
          "I-I'm sorry. I really tried."
          He punched a hole through the wall next to my head and pieces of dust flew into my eyes. I close them, tears streaming down my cheeks from the sting and he grabs my arm and drags me to my room and throws me onto the floor along with my backpack. "Study until you know everything!" He slams the door, but then opens it. "Oh, and if you don't get an A on your next test, which is tomorrow, you'll be sleeping in the garage. You're already sleeping in it tonight. You don't wanna make it two nights in a row, do you? You're not aloud in the car either, I don't want a dirty child in it making a mess." He again slammed the door and I waited for the familiar sound of his car driving away.
          I turned my doorknob but it didn't budge.
          He locked it.
          I started banging on the door with my fists as hard as I could until they bled. I screamed for help and cried until I had a headache. Usually I don't cry, but this time I did. I'm just so sick of being treated like trash and not being able to afford things I want.  Maybe I should just run away. Because like I mentioned earlier, the only reason he'd want me here is to beat me. Has it really come to this point? No. It can't. I just need to keep fighting through this. I'll soon be able to leave when I'm old enough. All he does is gamble though, so there's no point in being here right now. You know what? I'll do it. I'm breaking out of this hellhole and running away.
          I grab an old gym bag and stuff it with clothes. I open my window and tear the screen open and jump through it. I run around the house and open the door and put what money I could find into my bag, including food and some water bottles. I go into the garage and take the screen off the window so I could later escape and then I hide my bag behind some boxes where my dad wouldn't be able to see when he pulls in. I quickly go back to my room and unlock my door from the hall and lock myself back in.
          I think about all the sad memories I had in this room. I won't be missing anything here. Everything is so gloomy and just seems to want me dead.
          I sit around staring at all the walls and my small, bed, which used to be a crib, but was eventually torn apart to keep me from complaining.
          I suddenly hear the garage doors creak open.
          He's here.
          I'm ready.