Beep. Beep. Beep.

The annoying ring of my alarm tore me from the warm comforts of sleep. I groaned in frustration and rolled over, angrily slamming my closed fist down and onto the horrid clock. It was Saturday, and I'd forgotten to turn my alarm off before going to sleep last night. My eyes drifted around my bedroom, landing on the huge pile of textbooks and homework sitting on my seemingly small desk. I was never one to party or go out on a Friday night, but Kari invited me over yesterday to work on our group project for history. I had left without a question, and apparently without my homework I had promised myself I'd finish, too.

With one final groan of desperation, I hauled myself up and into the bathroom. I wanted to get up and ready quickly so that Annette wouldn't be reminding me about getting dressed before Aunt Lauren came to pick me up.

I brushed out the angry bedhead snarls that had knotted themselves in my hair hastily, losing my patience quickly with each hurtful yank of the brush. I brushed my teeth carefully, then sauntered into the kitchen. Annette was making eggs and bacon for breakfast, the smell wafting down the hall.

"Chloe!" she called, not bothering to look behind her as she plated the bacon. "Breakfast!"

I grabbed my plate of scrambled eggs from behind her. She jumped a little, and I knew I scared her. I smiled, since I was usually the one to jump at every little thing.

"Don't do that!" she held a hand over her heart. "You scared me!"

"Sorry." I shrugged, set my food down onto the kitchen table, and started eating.

"Your Aunt just called. She's going to be here at nine o'clock, so you've got to get ready before then." She checked the clock above my head for the time, "so I'd suggest you hurry up and eat."

I turned around to see what time it was, and my eyes widened. I had forty-five minutes, and I still had to take a shower and hopefully finish a little bit of homework. I scarfed down my food and chugged my orange juice, dropped the empty plate and glass into the sink and ran into my room. Grabbing some clothes and a towel, I hurried into the bathroom.

I set my towels down, eyeing the bottle of red hair dye placed on my countertop. Kari gave it to me yesterday, promising that bright red streaks would make me look older.

If I died my hair…

If I died my hair, Annette would freak. Aunt Lauren wouldn't talk to me. Dad… Dad wouldn't exactly be happy.

He's not here to be unhappy with you. He's away on one of his business trips, yet again.

Morning rush forgotten, I grabbed the bottle and ran cold water through the shower, reading the instructions on the label.

After about ten minutes, I was finished dyeing about a dozen red streaks into my hair. I hopped into the shower and washed out all of the gunk to make sure my hair didn't smell anymore, watching the trail of red dye-turned water swirl down the drain.

I got out and toweled myself dry, wrapping my hair up. Once I got dressed, I dropped the towel knotted around my hair and peeked at my reflection in the large bathroom mirror. My hair wasn't completely dry yet, but I could tell that I definitely looked older, at least old enough that I wouldn't get kiddie menus handed out to me at restaurants anymore.

"Chloe?" Annette knocked on the bathroom door. "Your aunt is here."

"Tell her that I'll be there in a minute," I called back. "I need to grab something from my room."

I counted to three and peeked down the hall and saw no one. I ran into my room and shut the door, then grabbed the first hoodie I saw draped over the back of my desk chair. I put it on and pulled the hood up all the way, checking in the mirror to make sure that my hair wasn't visible. When I was sure Aunt Lauren wouldn't notice, I skipped out of my room.

"Hey, Aunt Lauren," I smiled, but only earned a strange look in return.

"Hey, there." she thanked Annette for being here to watch me when Steve wasn't—like she always did—and grabbed her purse from the coffee table. Sending me another confused and partially concerned look, she hefted her nearly ten-pound bag over her shoulder and motioned for me to hurry up and get my shoes on so we could leave.

I did as Aunt Lauren gestured. "Bye, Annette," I called before shutting the door behind me. Sighing to myself, I pulled down my hood and started down the stairs, even though Aunt Lauren specified for me to take the elevator.

The thing is, I liked running down the stairs like a madman. It earned me strange stares from the occasional stair-walker—usually someone too impatient to use the elevator—but it was worth it. When I was little, Mom and I would always run down the stairs all the way from the penthouse to get to school, and I guess it gave me something to connect with. It sounded silly, but it was one odd tradition that I kept after Mom died.

After running down a few flights, I paused and took a step down. Not feeling anything in my sneaker, I realized that I forgot my credit card. I didn't always need it, but I liked to have it on me in case I wanted anything while I was out. I turned on my heel and rushed back up the stairs.

"Chloe?" Annette was rearranging the pillows on the couch when I got back. "Shouldn't you be with Lauren now?"

"Yeah, I just need something." I walked into my room and stuffed my credit card and a wad of cash into my shoe. It wasn't the best method in the world, but it was my best option since my shoes would probably always be on my feet. Unless I suddenly decided that I wanted to go shoe shopping—which, trust me, I wasn't—I'd be fine. No one can pickpocket your shoe.

I was almost out of the door when Annette interrupted me with a dramatic shriek.

"Chloe, what have you done? You've ruined your hair!"

"I-I-I-" I swallowed. "I dyed it." I scurried out the door before she could say anything else, pulling up the hood before anyone else could see.

When I finally got out to the parking lot, Aunt Lauren was visibly fuming. Uh-oh. I covered my shock with a blank look, then opened the car door.

"Sorry I took so long," I kept my eyes locked on the car parked in front of us, hoping she wasn't mad at me. Who knows, maybe Dad called her cell to tell her that his business trip was extended. I prayed that she wasn't mad at me.

She pulled off my hood. "Annette told me," her hands were clamped hard on the steering wheel as she drove. "Why would you dye your hair, Chloe? You've been doing a lot lately, and you haven't done anything like this before." She looked over at me from her seat. "You didn't do that big assignment you didn't tell me about. You snuck out to go to your friend's house last week." She rattled off a few more. "You got a D in Spanish. Is this all because of your new friends? They're not the best you've had."

Something inside of me snapped. "What do you want, Aunt Lauren? An apology? Fine. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I made my own decision." When I looked back at her, glare in place, I could see the hurt in her eyes, and I knew that my words had stung, but I didn't stop there. "Don't act like everybody has to be completely and utterly one-hundred percent perfect for you, because you're anything but that. You're the most controlling person I know. You don't want me doing this, don't want me doing that. Honestly, Aunt Lauren, add it to your list of "Things Chloe Can't Do Because Her Mother Is Dead."

She blanched. "I—"

"You've been pushing me and pushing me, and I just don't feel like listening anymore. If you want me to listen, maybe you should stop blaming Dad for everything. Whatever disagreement you have with him can stay between you two, because Dad is doing a damn fine job of raising me. Don't you dare try to prove otherwise."

Her eyes took on a crazy glint. "Chloe, get out of the car. Now."

I stared at her in shock. "What? The car's still moving!"

"Get out." She reached over, unlocked my car door, and pulled the latch to open it. With three arm jerks, the door was open, my seatbelt clicked off and retracted back, and I rolled onto the pavement.

I didn't know what I expected. Death, maybe? A pileup of cars because I was lying in the middle of the road? Whatever it was that I imagined, it didn't happen. There were no cars on the street, Aunt Lauren's Mercedes having sped off. I cursed and hauled myself up, brushing off loose asphalt that had collected on my jeans, sputtering out my now-dusty hair.

Where could I go now? I couldn't go home—Aunt Lauren would visit frequently, if not daily. I wasn't going to face her; she'd nearly killed me back there! The only possible thing to do would be to keep moving forward, find a place to stay for the night, and continue. I was going to be homeless. As long as Dad kept depositing my allowance, I would be fine. I just had to hope that the bank wouldn't freeze my account, but Dad wouldn't find out about my disappearance until he gets back… in a month. I luckily had enough loose change to buy meals for a few days, but I needed a jacket. The nights weren't as nice as the daytime in April. It was definitely no place for me, a short girl that looks like a thirteen-year-old, especially in the run down parts of Buffalo, with gangbangers and druggies. I could find an abandoned warehouse for tonight, since half of them in the district weren't even in use.

The only problem with that plan was that I didn't exactly know where to go. Aunt Lauren hadn't driven too long before she left me. I was only a few blocks away from my apartment now, but I wasn't retuning. Not now, not ever. That thought had surprised me at first, but I decided that it was only the best for me. Dad hadn't exactly left on a high note with me.

I started walking in the direction of the warehouses, hoping that I would have enough of everything to survive out here. It'll definitely go downhill from here, but I could stay warm in a building, maybe buy some blankets and a backpack to hold snacks, clothes and other living necessities. I had to stay away from any passing cars in case Aunt Lauren files a missing person report to cover up my sudden disappearance on her account. Even though it's impossible to work that fast on that kind of thing, I didn't trust anyone. I stayed on the side of the road and kept my eyes straight, oblivious to the passing cars.

I had to keep moving.

By sundown, I was starving, injured and tired. I had to resist the urge multiple times to just turn around and go home, but I forced those thoughts to the back of my mind. Right now, I had to get to shelter. I would sleep for a while, then move on at sunrise tomorrow. I was a runaway; I had to become street smart and learn to defend myself. I couldn't exactly just walk into a store and buy a weapon, but I could steal one.

Great, I thought to myself. A few hours away from home and you're already turning to theft.

No, I didn't want to steal anything. But when it came down to life or death, well… let's just say I'd choose life.

I walked up and down the nearly empty streets, waiting to find an odd warehouse. But I wasn't anywhere near where they would be. I had wandered too far off, and now I didn't have anywhere to stay. There was no closed down businesses around, the street was way too lively in the daytime for that. With every abandoned building here, a new coffee shop was up and running within a month.

I realized that I had absolutely no idea where I was, so I hunkered down in a long alleyway and waited for light to come.

Thanks for reading! :)