The place I once called home(maddie) Everyday at 5.30pm when dad comes home from work, I get this feeling I can't explain. It’s like my insides get so nervous and tangled up that I can't breathe. As the front door creaks open ever so slightly my dad walks in the door with his big, brown work boots dragging along the floorboards. I can feel the tension becoming tighter and tighter. I can hear my dad stumbling down the corridor, yelling at me to come to his side. Slowly I move my stiff and anxious body through the house until I reach him. The strong stench of alcohol is all I can smell. Once again I am being screamed at. “Where’s my drink?” dad replies attempting to take a swing at me. The force of his hand brushes past me. But again another swing is heading towards me, this time it connects. A strong, hard fist hits me right in the jaw. The tears fill my dried out eyes, holding them back as much as possible takes all of my strength and might.

As we make it down the hallway, I slowly lower him down onto the stained brown couch as he loses consciousness. “I can’t stay here”, I tell myself that this isn’t right and I can't live like this. No one should live like this, swirls around and around in my mind just like the water down the drain. I calm my shaken up brain down, grab a frozen bag of peas from the freezer and place it on my swollen, red jaw. The pain of the coldness doesn't freeze the pain I am feeling in my heart. I sit there watching my dad the same way he looks at me, disappointed. I try to decide what is best for me. “What do I do?Where would I go?Do I deserve it?”a million different questions are running through my mind at this point but there is only ever one question that trumps them all “I can’t just leave him here, can I?. I just want to get out. I have decided to drop everything and escape while I have the chance too. Everyday is the same in this horrid place that I used to call home.

Just as I'm sitting here wondering about what's next, dad awakens suddenly. His droopy face and confused eyes stare at me. He gets up and stumbles over to the kitchen to grab some more alcohol. Falling over his own feet he drops the glass. Its once crystal cup has now been shattered into thousands of shards just like my dreams of having a normal family. Dad stands there laughing at it, grabs another glass and finishes the more than likely 3rd bottle of the afternoon. It feels like he is laughing at me for being weak and pathetic. Walking over to the couch again, he takes a seat and once again passes out. I walk over to the glass filled kitchen, grab the broom and start scooping the pieces into some old newspaper. Every single scoop tells me that I made the right choice. The floor is clean again so I get myself together, put the only food in the house back into the freezer, and pack the bare essentials into my dusty backpack. Putting on a new pair of clothes I say goodbye to my dog, leave a note for my drunk of a father and head out the door for the last time. Freedom is mine and I don’t look back.

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