I looked down at the clothes I was wearing as I stepped out of the car and thanked Cassie for driving me home.
I was wearing a 5 Seconds of Summer t-shirt, black skinny jeans and a pair of black and white Vans.
An outfit that my parents completely forbid me to wear.
In fact, the only reason I had these clothes was because I went out and bought them with my friends when my parents thought I was out buying some new books for school.
"Alright," I mumbled to myself as I walked up to my front door "I can do this. I just new to stand up for myself and tell them that I don't want to be that goodie two shoes who always gets the A grades. I just have to tell them I want more freedom, that I'm almost fifteen and I need to get out and do something other then study."
Hesitating ever so slightly as I reached the door, I let myself in and walked straight into the living room where my parents were talking.
As soon as Mum saw me she started screaming about my clothes which caused Dad to turn and start yelling too.
"Rebecca Marie Wilson! What on Earth are you doing with those clothes?" Mum screamed at the top of her lungs, and using my full name.
"And where the hell did you get them?" Dad yelled even louder then Mum.
"I picked them up today after school." I told them as calmly as I could while I was shaking so hard I was surprised the floorboards weren't moving under the thick, brown carpet.
"So not only are you wearing clothes that make you look like you go around setting fire to peoples' cars and spray painting their fences, but you lied to us about where you went after school today?" Dad questioned me, yelling furiously.
"Firstly, Dad, these clothes do not make me look like I go around setting fire to peoples' cars and spray painting their fences, these clothes actually make me look normal, unlike those ugly, baggy clothes that you make me were. And second, yes I did lie to you about where I went after school." I said, growing more angry as I talked.
The next thing I knew, Mum's hand was slamming across my cheek and she was hissing in my ear:
"How dare you talk to your father like that! We work hard to put those clothes on your back, clothes that don't make you look like a slut and that make you look like a hard working young woman who people will respect!" she spat through her teeth.
"No Mum, the clothes you buy for me don't make people respect me. They look at me and think: 'Oh look, it's that girls who never does anything but study, she doesn't even do stuff with her friends. She doesn't have a life!'" I said, trying to keep calm but completely failing and so by the end I was screaming at my parents and struggling to hold back tears.
The next thing I knew, I had been pushed onto the floor and Dad was yelling at me, each word was emphasised with a kick in the stomach.
"YOU. LITTLE. SHIT. YOU. SHOULD. BE. GRATEFUL. FOR. EVERYTHING. WE. GIVE. YOU. IF. YOU. ARENT. HAPPY. WITH. WHAT. YOU. HAVE. MAYBE. YOU. SHOULD. GO. LIVE. ON. THE. STREET. YOU. UNGRATEFUL. BITCH."
He paused for a couple of seconds but I knew he was going to start kicking me again with a whole new round of insults.
So, as fast as I could with my bruised stomach and what I suspected were a few broken ribs, I scrambled from the floor and ran upstairs to my room, slamming the door shut and pushing as much furniture in front of it as I could with my throbbing chest before I heard the two of my parents pounding on the door.
I was trapped.
I sat on my bed and let out a small scream of pain as the tears continued to steam down my cheeks.
Then I thought about what Dad had said as he he'd kicked me. He'd said that if I wasn't happy with what I had, I should go live on the street.
I knew he hadn't meant it literally, but maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, it would be better then living in this hell hole.
Just then, one of the cupboards I had managed to push in front of the door moved, very slightly but it meant that my parents would be in my room soon, and when they got in, I would be dead.
Desperate to escape, I ran to my closet and grabbed some of the clothes that I've been able to smuggle into the house over the past few months.
These clothes included a few 5SOS band t-shirts, some skinny jeans, hoodies and some Vans.
Then I grabbed my laptop, my iPod, my phone, my chargers and some other small things like my drawing supplies and some make-up, something else I had smuggled into the house.
I did a final check of my room before opening the window, making sure to not to let it make any noise, before carefully climbing down to the ground with my small backpack full of stuff slung over my shoulders.
Then I ran.