As the lights dimmed brightly in my bedroom, I tried moving away from Joseph's haunting gaze.

Brushing the hair out of my eyes, I shift my back up against the indigo blue walls. The disgusting smell of beer and foul rum rushed into my nose as Joseph leaned his face closer to mine.

Soles of my boots smeared dark footprints on the dark blue fabric as I tried pulling away from my hateful father.

My hands were trembling, but my knees were itching to hit Joseph in the crotch. But since Austin was two apartment doors down from mine, I was afraid of alerting the neighbors.

Don't get me wrong; I did want to scream for help, but the last thing I need is cops placing me in an unstable foster home. And besides, they are ten times worse as Joseph.

Taking a long look at my face, Joseph grabs a fist of my hair, pulls me close, then asked in a scary voice: "Where were you, Jacqueline?"

Letting the tears slide down my face, I gave him a hard stare then said absolutely nothing.

I just thought if I didn't say anything, Joseph would stop being a dick and finally leave me alone.

However, as minutes passed by, Joseph pulled my hair even tighter, causing me to shriek and yelp in pain.

Now, this is an interrogation tactic Joseph always do whenever Jacob or I have done something wrong.

Most days it was cigarette burns, but other times, Joseph would let his hands grab a belt from his bedroom closet, and torture us with it.

Noting my stubbornness, Joseph takes a deep breath then finally lets go of my dark blonde curls.

"Where were you, Jacqueline?" he repeated sternly.

Slowly, I ran my fingers through my hair when I felt a searing pain somewhere on the back of my skull.

Throbbing like a red pimple, I tried poking its source with my left index finger, but since Joseph is watching me, I rest my hand down on my lap, then fought back my tears.

His eyes were concerned than angry, and a nice smile smeared on his ghastly face.

"I have been looking for you," Joseph admitted. "I called Austin's moms, I searched every street, and I even thought about contacting your older brother."

"Oh, were you?" I sneered. "Because the last time I checked, you are a homophobic dick."

Joseph pretended that he didn't hear me.

Instead, he was more focused on getting me to reveal my darkest secrets than seeing if I was okay.

Giving my back a gentle rub, Joseph tried a different kinder approach.

"Instead of talking to Austin, " he began cautiously. "why don't you use your cell phone and call me?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Because I don't have a phone," I answer. "I keep asking you if I can buy a phone, but you think they are a waste of time and money."

Remembering his own words, Joseph stopped rubbing my backside.

"Look, I just worry about you. Okay?"

"Fuck you," I replied stiffly.

He gazed at me in surprise.

"What?" cried Joseph. "Isn't that what fathers do? Getting worried about their daughters?"

"You have a very fucked up way of showing it, Joseph." I retorted.

Unfazed by my attitude, Joseph cleared his throat then decided to interrogate me with a series of questions.

"Where were you?" he demanded.

"You have asked me that shitty question three times." I reminded.

"Just answer the question." barked Joseph.

I groaned. "I was in the bookstore with Austin."

"Doing what?" asked Joseph, furrowing his eyebrows at me.

"We were searching for a book," I replied.

"Is it for school?"

"Yeah, " I lied. "we're doing some kind of science project."

Giving me a distrustful look, Joseph politely asked if he can see it.

"Why?" I implied in a bitter tone. "I told you that Austin and I weren't doing anything wrong."

Joseph snorted in disbelief.

"Oh come on," he grunted, "I have seen the way he looks at you!"

"He and I are just friends!" I yelled.

"You and Austin are just friends?" scoffed Joseph.

"Yes!" My voice blared. "Look, I get that I am a girl and all, but what is wrong with hanging out with the person I choose?"

"Because the way I look at it, you are sleeping with him." Joseph snarled.

"Oh my God!" I wailed. "I am a virgin, Joseph! If you don't believe me, let's go to the hospital."

"So you can prove me wrong?" guessed Joseph.

"Yeah." I rasped.

Coldly, Joseph takes a long drink from his beer then slurred, "what a real fucking whore you turned out to be. Just like your fucking mother."

Hurt, I adjusted my weight on my mattress and gave him a good look in the eye.

"The fuck are you talking about?" I snarled. "Isadora isn't a slut, she is my REAL mother."

Sighing very loudly, Joseph tries to take my hands, but I slapped them away from me.

"Don't you fucking touch me," I hissed. "I want you to get the fuck out of my room."

Joseph gives me a shocked stare. "What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me, asshole," I growled. "Get out, or I will scream."

Joseph looked at me with bitter eyes.

"You weren't like this, you know." he murmured.

I gave him a long look. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Is your attitude your brother's doing?" accused Joseph.

I rolled my eyes. "First you are playing detective, " I spat. "and now you are accusing your own son of turning me into a rebellious teenager?"

Joseph shrugged his shoulders at me.

"It's just an observation," he says coolly.

I tilt my head bitterly.

"Speaking of Jacob, " I began in a spiteful tone. "why don't you ever call him by his actual name?"

He laughed spitefully. "His actual name? Like what, Jacob the Disgraceful? Jacob Who Wasted My Time and Money on Being a Director?"

Then glaring at me, Joseph added: "And since we are talking about families, what kind of daughter are you?"

I squint my eyes at him. "What kind of daughter am I?"

Taking another swig from his beer, a drunk Joseph snorted: "I have raised you to be a polite young woman with friends, a law career, and a taste in fashion."

I stifled a moan.

"Oh, now you are disrespecting my interests?!" I blared. "You get mad whenever Isadora talks about your drinking habits, your job, and your negligence!"

The monster angrily shakes his head to and fro.

"Don't put your mother into the spotlight." he threatened.

"Why?" I barked. "She is the reason why you couldn't keep your shit together."

"No, she isn't."

I crossed my arms at him. "Oh, really? Then, why did you kick her out?"

Joseph opened his mouth to answer, but the anger bottled in his heart prevented him from saying another word.

Then as he takes another swig from his beer, Joseph slowly trudged out of my room, paused at the doorway, then said in a menacing voice: Say your mother's name again, and you are grounded. Understand?"

"Go to hell, " I snarled.

Taking in my response, Joseph quietly steps out of my bedroom, and with a loud slam, he closed the door then stomped to bed.

After he leaves my bedroom, I became so angry with him, that I yanked my pillow off of my mattress, then screamed until I strained my voice.

My face was red as a cherry; my hands balled into fists, and my hair is ruined-all thanks to Joseph.

"I need to get out of here," I mumbled to myself.

I have to get away from Joseph and his bullshit lies.

Getting up out of bed, I opened my closet, found my enormous, blue backpack, and dumped every textbook before I could grab my clothes.

Stuffing my sweaters, t-shirts, pants, and bras, I packed my Super 8 35mm camera, my purse, menstrual pads, and other film equipment inside my bag, until it was big enough to carry.

Taking a deep breath, I carried my backpack over my shoulders, tiptoed over to my bedroom door, then listened for Joseph's angry footsteps.

Thankfully, I didn't hear anything troubling; except for the obnoxious clicking coming from our rusty air conditioner.

Hoisting up my bag, I opened the door then shut it, so Joseph wouldn't hear me from his bedroom. In the meantime, the lights in the living room and kitchen were all turned on.

Among the kitchen countertops were empty beer bottles, trash, and burnt frying pans. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink as I walked past the station area.

My fingers dug into the loose, black straps of my backpack, as my stiff legs take me to the unoccupied door, whose wooden surface looks as if it was clawed by an angry cat.

Approaching the entrance, I ran my fingers against the rough wood, until my fingernails rubbed against the metal doorknob.

As I grasped the shiny object, my mind went back to Joseph's sneering face and all the times he abused me.

Turning the knob sideways, I wondered what Isadora might think of me.

Will she be proud that I left Joseph?

Does Isadora even understand the risks I am taking?

Swallowing a gulp, I thrust the door open, walked out of the apartment, then shut the door behind me.

Later, I find myself standing in a cramped hallway-just inches away from Austin's door.

The lights flickered on and off, the walls remained the color of puke, and the carpeted floor felt rough against my shoes.

Scanning my eyes for Austin's door number, I continued heading straight when a golden 64, appeared from the corner of my eye.

It sticks against the center of the entrance; covered in some kind of brown dirt. Beside me were a group of small flies dancing around a light bulb sitting in its glass bowl.

Although the insects didn't bug me, I could hear their small constant buzzing tormenting my ears.

Buzz

Buzz

The swarm of flies kept pestering me with their sound until they heard my fist pounding on Austin's door.

"Coming!" he shouted, as his footsteps drew near.

Opening the door, I see Austin rubbing his tired eyes.

He wore a black shirt with a portrait of Stan Lee on the front and periwinkle pajama pants.

Dark brown curls tousled like spaghetti, as my best friend tries to pat it down. But like a metal spring, Austin's hair bounced back into its original shape, making him angry.

"Ugh, " Austin groaned. "I fucking did my hair this morning."

I chuckled at his goofy hair, then greeted him very casually.

"Hey, Austin," I respond.

"Hey," Austin responded back. "What's up?"

"Can I stay at your apartment for a couple of days?" I ask.

Austin gives me a questionable look. "Why?"

I did a bored sigh. "Because I hate being around Joseph."

"Did you guys fight again?" he guessed.

"Yes," I say.

Immediately, Austin noticed the bruise around my eye then frowned.

"Was it...intense?" he murmured.

"Yeah, " I answer with a sigh.

Austin was about to ask me more questions when a female Vietnamese voice appeared out of nowhere.

"Honey, who is at the door?" it asked.

Austin rolled his eyes, then replied: "It's Jack Cassidy, Mom."

A thirty-eight-year-old Olivia Hale came from behind Austin to see me standing awkwardly near the doorstep.

Her jet black hair shimmered gracefully against her broad shoulders, as her slanted, brown eyes studied me with curiosity.

The woman's olive tone skin matches perfectly with her white tank top shirt, soft rainbow-colored pajama pants, and purple flip-flops.

Worn wrinkles creased underneath her eyelids, as Olivia instantly recognized the girl with a bruised face, indie clothing, and dark blue backpack.

"Hello, Jack," said Olivia in an unexpected tone.

"Hi, Olivia," I said weakly.

Like her wife, Kristy, Olivia was pretty chill with me calling her by her first name.

Taking a long look, Olivia examined my black eye. "What happened to your face?"

"I fell down some stairs," I explained sheepishly.

Although he was annoyed by my white lie, Austin held his tongue, while Olivia gives me a warm smile.

"Okay, " she says unsurely. "well come on in, get yourself freshened up."

"Sure, " I say, stepping inside.

Austin and Olivia led me to their comfortable living room. Its creamy yellow walls blended perfectly with their soft brown carpet; and on top of the floor, was a deep crimson couch which suited for more than two people.

Throughout the room, the walls are decorated in rainbow-colored balloons, Christmas lights, and party streamers.

Scanning my eyes, I noticed a big kitchen—filled with silver countertops, two working stoves, an enormous fridge, and clean dishes.

Behind the kitchen are brown carpeted steps, which lead to unoccupied bedrooms.

Bright lights and rainbow-colored streamers filled the kitchen, as Kristy opened the big oven, and pulled out a tray of hot M&M cookies.

She wears a bright pink, dark purple, and deep blue t-shirt, blue pants with red polka-dots, and white socks.

Protecting her hands, are red kitchen gloves which allowed Kristy to carry the cookie tray out of the oven and onto the cool kitchen countertop.

Her dark brown ponytail swished back and forth excitedly, as she removed her mittens, tossed them aside, and greeted me with a big hug.

"Thank GOD!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe you came!"

I stared at her for a minute. "What? You were expecting me?"