I unlocked the door of my dads house and walked in. It looked worse than when I left. Beer cans litter the floor and the smell of weed lingered in the air. The house is way to quite.
“Dad,” I call out “dads are you here?”
The only responses I get are cars honking and loud neighbors. Then I hear snoring, Dad’s home, clearly passed out. I walk to his room.
“Dad, I’m home, I brought home dinner.” He doesn’t respond. Oh well, at least I cant try and clean up while he sleeps. As I start to pick up, I fall face first into the coffee table! I start to taste something like rusty iron.
“Crap!” I mumble as I try and find something to stop the waterfall of blood.
I must have fallen hard because Dad comes stumbling out of his room.
“W-what’s going o-on?” His words are like the way he walks slow and trippy.
“Nothing Dad, dinners on the table.” Rolling my eyes. Why did I want to live with him? I could have been living it up with mom. The parents divorced were a few years ago. It really messed up my dad. He started drinking even more and took up smoking pot. Mom ended up marrying some rich guy. I want to leave all the time. But when I try to leave he says it will clean up, and he does. At least for a few months, but starts up again.
“Chloe?” he asks slowly “w-what’s the matter?” Oh, now he notices my blood and me covered face. Well, he’s a lost case
“ Nothing, nothing.” I say through clenched teeth. This is getting really annoying.
“I just miss mom.” suddenly he jumps up and starts yelling.
“You can’t go live with her! You live with me! So don’t even think on leavening! You’ll never leave.”
“Gosh, calm down Dad I just said I missed her. Its not like I’m going to see or anything.”
His face grows redder and redder by the second; it’s almost as red as my hair.
“Like hell your not, I’ll never let you leave.” I know I’ve had pushed him to far. Bring up mom was the worst thing possible. In his anger he gets up and pushes me, HARD.
The push affects me a lot; because of my size it makes me more vulnerable. I’m in a daze as I’m falling. Dad would never push me, would he? Picking myself up, I storm off. How dare he push me? I think angrily to myself. He thinks he can keep me from mom? I don’t even like him, just way to sympathetic. I can just call up Mom and leave any time I want. My angry thoughts give me new ideas. Why don’t I just leave? But if dad found out what I was thinking, it would not be pretty. He would kill me, literally. Dad is already passed out, his anger gone. I decide not to risk calling and go to sleep. After all I have work in the morning. I have to work two jobs, a casher at both Wal-mart and target, in addition to school and extra circulars. I have to make most of the money because all Dad does is deal. That night I come home so to find my dad completely wasted sitting in front of a blank TV screen.
“Dad, hello? Dad it’s me. Are you okay?” half annoyed half concerned.
Yess, don’t you love this show? Its my favorite.”
“The TV isn’t even on, here let me turn it on for you.” I turn it on and he freaks out.
“What are you doing? It was my favorite show!” he gets up and pushes me to the floor and turns off the TV. And relaxes back on the couch. I’m still on the floor, frazzled.
“What’s the matter with you? Pushing your own daughter! I hate you! I’m surprised that I haven’t left all ready!” my screams echo through out the
tiny apartment. For once it’s completely silent, no talking neighbors, no cars honking, nothing.
‘I take very good care of you?” I roll my eyes at this
“I feed you, clothe you, put a roof over your head, and this is how you repay me?” I’m slowly exploding.
“Who buy the clothes, dad? Who earns money is it? Who has to work two jobs to pay the rent?”
“But,” he try’s to interrupt
“Shut up, its me who makes the money. Me who has to do everything. Not you I’ve had enough. I hate you.”
And with that I leave the room. I slam my door trying to hold back tears. That night I cry myself to sleep. In the morning I call my mom.
“Hi mom, its Chloe?”
“Oh, hi Chloe I was just thinking about you. When do you want to visit? I was just thinking to my self,”
“That’s why I’m calling.” I interrupt
“I want to come to live with you.”
“Oh really? What’s wrong?” her happy mom voice is gone, replaced with a dead serious tone I’ve never heard.
“Me and dad are fighting.” I half whisper in the phone.
“Has drinking a lot. Yesterday, he pushed me.” That’s all she needed to here. She quickly makes some plans.
“Okay, can you be at the airport tomorrow at noon? Or would you rather leave tonight?” I can tell she worried.
“The sooner the better.”

A few hours later she calls and tells me my info. I sneak out. As imp about to board, I see my dad. Taking on last glance I laugh. I feel so free.