I was 4 the day my mom left us. I remember walking home from the park with my dad and older brother Peter. My mom's car was filled with boxes as we walked up the drive way. My mom was sitting cross legged on the couch with a bag and 2 boxes at her feet.

"Joe, I cannot take it anymore" She said as she got up taking her bag and boxes under one arm and took off her wedding ring, she put it in the sink and through the silence we heard the clattering of the ring as it made its way down the drains. She turned to us and left.

Later my dad burned everything of hers in the fireplace. Books, clothing she left behind, pictures, and presents she gave to us over the years.

Some how I managed to get my favorite picture of her. It was the last thing I had to remember her by.

My dad hit me constantly blaming me for mom leaving us. All I remember was waking up really late hearing mom screaming. I got up and walked over to the door. It was ajar so I peeked through. My dad was beating her and throwing things at her. But that was when I was three. Scientists say that you truly don't remember things until you are 4. I don't believe them for if it were so I would not know why my mother left us. Peter was 25 and still lived with us. Dad never ,made him pay a rent or anything, he just stayed in his room with video games and a mini fridge. He never left the house. Ever.

I never really talked to people except my boyfriend Nathan, who we call Nate, and my best friend Samantha. Nate was exceptionally taller than me. He had dark curly hair and these really weird eyes. He was on the soccer team but was just kicked off because he couldn't keep his grades up. Samantha was shorter than me with black hair and green eyes. She was really artsy and always got straight A's. Samantha was a loyal friend but I never told her about my dad. I never really had a safe haven from him because Samantha's dad would never let me over because he was racist and I was white ( which would make her family black). I just met Nate about a year ago and he already said that he loved me. I couldn't say the same because I didn't feel the same way and he knew that. He accepted that and we still dated. I mean he was great but more of a great friend that I just happen to call my boyfriend.

I'm Kathleen Margret St. Pierre. I'm 20 years old and trying to stay at Tufts University for as long as I can to avoid my father.

Tonight was the worst. My dad hates me eating junk food but I snuck into the kitchen to get a candy bar. But the creaking of the cabinet made him come get me. I turned around so slowly and tasted something sour in my mouth as I saw my dad pull his belt from his pants and he raised it above his head. I cringed and took it without crying. I got used to not showing my tears. Later he sat me down next to the fireplace and went to my room. He came back with my mom's picture. He gave me a horrifying glare and ripped it to two half's. He ordered me to rip it up more. I shivered at the thought of loosing my mother yet again by doing this. I did it eventually and he took the pieces from my hands and threw it into the fire. He finally let me go once it burnt to the embers.

I retreated to my room finding comfort in the only thing that I could. I turned on my DVD played and began to watch Titanic.

I wish I had a Jack Dawson I thought. To take me away from this Hell I call home. I fell asleep right when Rose took off her robe once she gave Jack the dime. I dreamt of a life with a caring father and a brother that would be there for me.

I woke up to what sounded like a fog horn. I put my hand to my head and found my wavy chestnut hair spread out on a silk pillow. I got up and found my self in a Victorian stay room. I opened the arm war and took out a dress not bothering with a corset pondering were I was. I combed my hair and make my way up and found myself on a deck. There were all these people dressed in fancy old looking clothing looking over a railing waving. I looked over to and we were all on a ship. I started to look for an officer. I found one.

"Hello," I said

"Hello, miss. I'm Fifth Officer Moody. What can I do for you.?"

I forgot what I wanted to ask. He was gorgeous! His eyes were a dazzling shade of green and had dark short brown hair. He looked at me adoringly not knowing what to say. I often found people getting lost in my blue eyes.

"Sorry, um…….. Were are we exactly.?" I asked as I broke the silence.

"Why, we just left Southampton. We are on Titanic"

Everything went black.