"Ruth, for the millionth time, you are not going to that party, I need you to stay here and babysit Kayla."
Mum's screaming at me again. I've only asked to go to the party twice, and I don't see why I shouldn't go. I'm 18, I should be allowed to go to the eighteenth birthday party of my best friend in the entire world. Charlotte and I are like twins. We're in all the same classes at school and we're always visiting each other's houses. We're going to go to the same uni next fall or, failing that, taking a gap year out together first.
Besides, Kayla should be able to look after herself. She's 14 for Christ's sake; she doesn't need babysitting. But Mum won't hear of it. I sigh. I'm not resigned to it, I'll just have to sneak out tonight. I could threaten moving out, but then I might actually have to do so to make a point; and the idea of having to worry about rent and various other things just doesn't appeal. I leave the house, slamming the door behind me.
"You'd better be back by seven, young lady," the tyrant threatens.
"Shut up!" I scream, "I don't want to know. I don't care. I might just move out now and never come back. I don't want to see you ever again! I wish I'd never been born." Silence. I take off, running. This is DEFINITELY the calm before the storm. If I do go back tonight, I might find something missing or broken; if she's really mad, she might even break me. She's done that before. Hit me so hard across the face that my nose broke. When she took me to hospital, I said I'd walked into a wall. I was ten then, and scared that she'd hit me again if I told the truth. The second time was when I was fifteen, and she was drunk. She shoved me into a wall a bit too hard and gave me a concussion. I lied again; said I'd tripped. I was still scared of her. I don't think she ever meant to do it, and it had only happened once or twice, and for some unfathomable reason I still love and fear her in almost equal measure, enough that I would never tell anyone.
As I near the corner, I notice a strange shimmering patch of air to the side of the pavement. It pulls on the strings of my attention, drawing me in, pulling me towards it. By the time I am close enough to touch it, I know two things. One: It is not a good idea to walk through it. Two: I have no choice in the matter. As I make contact with it, there is a bright flash of light, and then darkness. I quite like the darkness, I reflect, as the sound starts to go too. It is calm, nice, almost like falling asleep. Then the darkness overcomes me, and there is nothing.