Runaway (Austin Mahone) [OH]

Home

A/N: Repost since I accidentally deleted this!>.<

Uh, ohh. But yeah....here it is again

Disclaimer:Rose and anybody not included in Austin's life is obviously the only thing I've created.

A home is suppose to be a place you find comfort in, the wormhole into escaping the outside world. It's designed to shelter you away from uncertain danger, a security blanket. It allows a person to take a moment to be free without the judgement of others. A sanctuary of isolation. The barriers between sanity and insanity. And everyone knows insanity is a greater pleasure than it would be to be sane.

Yet I never grew up with anything I'd consider a security blanket. No, I grew up in a house full of yelling and swinging fists, gambling and drug deals. The echoing sounds of my torturous screams as I was struck down by the drunken man I was forced to call 'father'. Question where my 'mother' is? She'd be unconscious in the corner, nursing a bottle of her own to her chest, the way she use to hold me. They were, and continue to be, aggressive towards me in any way that they see 'fit' for me.

My body was battered and bruised, hidden away from plain sight. I am their punching bag, the only object they seek to damage. In more ways than one. There are a decent amount of scars running up and down my body, the result of an act of disobedience on my part. An attempt to protect myself just rifles up the duo. So, take the beating or risk a close encounter with death. It's not something I would recommend for others who suffer the same as I do, but it was something I learned to accept at a young age.

I haven't ever said anything to anyone before. Why would I? What actions could someone possibly have done for me which wouldn't have resulted in me being put into a foster care system? I've been put into the system once when I was extremely young and I've never forgotten what a horrible experience it was. I've heard stories of what goes on behind close door. And I know not every single foster system is like this but I wouldn't take the risk. It would be like I never left home.

And imagine me going to a system now. A seventeen year old teenage girl going back into the system while being stuck under the same roof as some of those creepy, hormonal teenage boys. Or anything else that would be lurking the shadows waiting the spring upon me. Whether I would live in my 'home' with a pair of inhumane parents or being put into the misery of a foster system, I would be a prisoner in hell.

And if I were somehow put into a safe foster care, chosen by a nice family, that family would without a doubt return me. I know I would. Who wouldn't have second thoughts about bringing in a moody teenager who smells like booze and cigarettes into a family environment?

Yes, I said booze and cigarettes. I'd take a risk and swipe away the minimal stuff my parents had, something they wouldn't notice that was gone, taking it when they had passed out from either drinking too much or inhaling drugs that would cause one to pass out. The bottle and stick made feel numb. Made forget just for a while.

I wanted to do something to change. A new start away from my demons and the evil that lurks in my 'home'. Runaway to forget the misery from 'home'. And I would make sure to do just that.

The day after senior graduation I plan on leaving behind the messy scars. The day after graduation is when I become the legal age of eighteen, the age were I am no longer forced to stay in hell.

I wouldn't let the demons know. I needed to get out and I know if they were to find out in someway what I had planned, they would be sure to make it impossible to leave them behind.

But that wouldn't happen. I had a plan. I would leave this hell hole and escape into a new world. A different world that would become my new home. A better home.

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