For her, hell is a place called home, and she moved there when she was young. Her father abandoned her and her escort of a mother when she was just three years old. Leaving them in a run down camper trailer.

She spent her life taking care of her mom, who was either not home or too strung out on coke to even be remotely responsive. Imagine being 6 years old, having to stay up at night to make sure your only parent makes it home alive. She knew her mom was a whore. There was no doubt about it. Her mom didn’t work but she always seemed to have enough money to pay for her addictions. She may have only been 6, but she knew a lot more than what she should have. She knew more than what most teenagers knew.

School was easy, but at the same time one of the most difficult things that she knew she had to overcome. She was brilliant; always a grade ahead of where she was supposed to be. It never seemed to matter how smart she was, she just never seemed to fit in.

Timmy was introduced into her life when she was 8, and 6 months later he ended up marrying her mother. Timmy, even though he made her mom happy, wasn’t much better. He didn’t work. He did receive disability, but he was a drunken asshole, and 90% of his money went to beer and rum.

School was tolerable up until the seventh grade. She didn’t really have many friends, and the friends that she did have were just school friends. They didn’t know the real her, and she wasn’t going to let them know. She wasn’t even sure if she knew her ‘real’ her.


Even as a little girl she knew that she was different from all the others. She could handle more responsibility, and she definitely had more brains than most of the people she knew.
She started to stay home halfway through her seventh grade year. At first home was better than school, but Timmy started to drink earlier, drink longer, and drink so much harder than normal.
Running away seemed like the only logical explanation, but she knew that she couldn’t leave her mom home alone with Timmy. Timmy changed, drastically. He went from only being angry when he drank, to being angry all the time.

Timmy would never lay a finger on me or my mom. Or at least she thought. He didn’t turn violent until she started to stay home from school. Was it her fault that he was this mean? Did he just want her out of here? With being hated at school, and hated even more at home, she wasn’t sure what to do. Whether to leave, or stay.