I shut the front door so no one can see mom. I run up to her and check for any injuries. Dad must be drinking again, because she has huge bruises on her arms and legs. "Mom!", I whisper. She's passed out. I check her pulse. She's still breathing.
The door that leads to my parents room bursts open. A very drunk dad comes out and takes another swig from the bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Why'd you do this?!", I demand. I don't care if the neighbors hear me. "Why'd you hurt my mom?!", I scream. He rolls his eyes and goes into the kitchen.
I say the words I know will enrage him, the ones my mother has said a hundred times. "We're leaving.", I say. He turns, fury in his eyes. I stand and let the tears that had been pooling in my eyes fall. "And we're not coming back, Greg.". He takes wobbly steps towards me and gets in my face, nearly stepping on mom.
"You aren't going anywhere.", he says, the stench of alcohol blowing in my face. I push him away and tell him I'll go anywhere I want. He tries to grab my hand, but I run. He chases me around the table and I push it at him.
"Maybe if you weren't such a drunk and weren't so fat, you could catch me.", I sneer. He catches me off guard and grabs me by my hoodie. He pulls my hair and arches my back painfully. I cry out and wait for the first punch. He's beaten me before, but I've never talked back.
"Where you gonna go now, huh?", he slurs. I close my eyes. Here it comes. Something hard hits my stomach and then my face. I'm dropped to the floor. I crawl away blindly. I'm hit again, this time in the leg. Someone's huge, knuckle hands wrap around my throat.
Everything goes black.
I shudder at the thought of what happened nearly eleven days ago. I pull at the itchy black turtleneck someone at the hospital had given me to hide my bruises and my red, bruised neck. I put my earbuds in and blast Nirvana to drown out the sea of people watching me as I make my way to the administration office to get my paperwork sorted out.
A day in Sydney and they already have school plans for me. "Sign this please. And then we'll get your schedule. You can start on Monday.", the young, plump woman in front of me says. I sign the paper she's put in front of me and hand it back. She hands me a yellow paper with my classes on it.
I give her a fake smile and walk out. "Damn. There's a new hottie in town.", I hear someone yell. I try to smolder my anger. No time for another fight. I head back to the car I was driven here in. They have to take me to my new 'foster friends' which is basically some people my age who go to my new school and I'll be living with for a while.
I buckle up once I get in the car. "You live fairly close to campus.", the child services lady says. I nod and look at all of the laughing teens as we pass. They have normal lives. So why can't I?
I write in the notebook the lady at the hospital gave me to 'write down my feelings'. I mean, what does she expect me to write? How bad I feel that I'm the reason my mom is dead? That I'll never be able to runaway from the fact that he's out there, looking for me? That I'm a bruised, broken, poor little girl inside?
Instead, I write down things I want to do in Sydney. I don't expect to be here long, but...
I want to go to the record store. I really wish I had my camera. If I did, I could film my visit to the record store and post it on YouTube. But I can't. I stopped making videos three weeks ago, when I found out I could never escape the wrath of my father.
I went by the name UnknowinglyNormal, Ms. Normal for short. I recommended good music and talked about my favorite four idiots. 5 Seconds Of Summer. That's what my channel was about. I had millions of subscribers. And I liked that even though I lived a crappy life, I could make videos that made other peoples lives happier.
The Child Services lady tells me were here, distracting me from my old life. I sigh and grab my bag filled with clothes from CS. At least I'm in Sydney, home of the greatest band in the world.
The lady knocks on the door, and I wait. I'm not here to make friends. I'll go to school and wait patiently for the news I've been waiting for. That the police have caught my dad, and I can go back to New York.
The door slings open, revealing a smiling face. A very familiar smiling face. A face with the name of Luke Hemmings.