AN: My first chapter is always my shortest. I just use it to introduce the characters.

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And I was hiding
'Til you came along
And showed me where I belong
You found me
When no one else was lookin'

(You Found Me ~ Kelly Clarkson)

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My name is Kate Austen and I killed my step father. How did I do it? I picked him up from his daily drinking binge and brought him home. He ended up passing out on the bed, that's when I poured gasoline all over every possible inch of his trailer. I didn't think twice about it, as I walked out the door, I threw in a match and the whole place instantly ignited in flames. I watched for only a moment, and then I drove away, feeling satisfied. Why did I do it? Well that's an entirely different story.

I was three years old when my parents divorced. I didn't know much about my real dad, except that he was in the military. Soon after the divorce, my mother met Wayne. He was nice, handsome and had a decent job. My mother instantly fell in love and they got married five days before my seventh birthday. I remember staying at my aunt's house while my mother and Wayne went on their honeymoon. I never got a birthday party, no one said happy birthday and I got no presents. I cried myself to sleep that night, for the first time.

A year later, after their marriage, Wayne started going to bars a lot, to play pool with his "buddies". My mother didn't mind, she never even mentioned it. But I noticed. I noticed that horrid smell of alcohol on his breath, the way he couldn't speak or walk properly. Soon it became his habit. It never seemed like a problem, until one night, when he came home. My mother was awaiting his arrival in fury. Then finally, he came stumbling through the front door towards my mother.

"Where in hell have you been?" she screamed. He started laughing.

"This isn't funny, I've had quite enough of all this drinking!" she shrieked. His laughing suddenly stopped. He looked up at her, with a dead serious look on his face. He stood only a few inches away from her, standing perfectly still.

"Well? Where have you be-" she tried to yell, but his hand covered her mother and he pushed her into the wall behind her.

"Shut up, you dumb bitch!" he screamed back. He began laughing again. "Your job is to do what you're told and not ask questions." he said as he laughed. He removed his hand away from her mouth.

"Fuck you." she whispered.

"What? What did you just say to me?" he asked, in anger.

"I said, fuck you!" she replied. He grabbed her neck and slammed her head against the wall.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again! You hear me woman?" he yelled as he shook her neck. She nodded her head in fear.

"Fucking bitch, your useless!" he snapped and began punching her in the face. I froze in panic. I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. I watched him beat her, till the blood poured down her face. He left to go back to the bar, while she lay there crying and bleeding. I went back to my room, lay down, closed my eyes and pretended it was just a dream, or rather a nightmare.

That is how things were, from then on. He would drink, come home & beat her. Sometimes he never even came home, for days at a time. But she always took the abuse. Why? Because she loved him. I could see how she was suffering. But she never admitted to it, she was silent.

I remember one time; we went to the grocery mart. My mother was trying to pick out the cheapest milk. As she scanned the prices, a lady from her book club walked up.

"Oh dear, what happened to your arm?" the lady asked, sounding concerned. My mother looked down at the bruise, the size of a grape fruit, on her arm.

"Oh, uh...I fell off my bed during the night." she laughed, as if she was trying to believe her own lie. That was all I remember from their conversation. I was too distracted by the fact my mother lied, to protect that bastard. It ate away at my thoughts for days.

There were times he beat her so bad, she ended up in the hospital, but of course she lied to protect him. It made me sick to my stomach. I was sick of seeing it, I was sick of hearing about it and I was sick of living it. But now he is gone, probably burning in hell. I did what was right, but guilt quickly got to me.

There was no evidence. Any trace of me being there at his time of death, burned that night. I've considered turning myself in many times, but I never did. I've just continued to live, like nothing ever happened. My mother still thinks it was a drunken accident. That he probably knocked over a candle or dropped a cigarette on the carpet. I'll never tell her, what I did, even though I did it to save her.

It got to a point, where I couldn't bare to live. I tried killing myself a few times, but I was never successful. It became all I ever thought about, it controlled my life. After a while, I went to see a therapist. I made an appointment every week and started to see myself slowly improve. After almost a year, I stopped therapy and got a job in a store that sells office supplies. I hated the job, but I needed to pay rent. Day after day I would go in and stock shelves and help customers. My boss, Derek was always complaining about my customer service skills and the way I stocked things on the shelves. I would always fake a smile and agree, even though I hated that prick.

One day, I was doing overtime. Derek was telling me about customer complaints, as I was stocking a shelf. I was getting annoyed, but still listened anyway. I began rolling my eyes, when Derek pointed out that "I wasn't perfectly lining up the merchandise". Just as he finished degrading me, a man walked up the isle towards us. Little did I know, my entire life was about to change forever.

"Can I help you?" Derek asked, trying to be enthusiastic. I couldn't help but to giggle a little.

"Yeah, is there a bathroom in here?" he replied in a southern accent.

"Yes, Kate would you mind showing him where the bathroom is? You need to improve your customer service skills anyways." Derek informed me. I set down the merchandise and turned around. Then he winked at me. The man (who, I have to admit was sexy) winked at me.

"This way!" I yelled as I began to walk towards the bathrooms. There was silence for a few moments and then he began to speak.

"You got a name, sweet cheeks?" he asked me.

"Kate." I replied. I didn't like the fact he called me "sweet cheeks". Wayne used to call my mother that.

"Sawyer." He began. "You from around here?"

"Here is the bathroom. You're welcome." I said, sounding slightly annoyed. I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my arm and spun me around so that I was facing him. "I have to get back to work." I told him. He let go of my arm.

"See you around, Freckles." He replied as he smiled. Then he walked into the bathroom. As I began walking back towards the shelf I was stocking, I couldn't help but wonder; was he hitting on me?