Prologue:
Oh man.
Glancing in the mirror to see the red marks on my face, the cold wind stung my cheeks. I looked to my side to find my window open. I hated this, my life was shattered with no one to talk to, with no one who cares about me. That's it. I'm done living here, I've learned enough to survive. I'd rather starve out there than live any longer in this house that belonged to my father. I can't believe I still love him. My father is the reason for my nightmares, the reason why I can't even leave my room for anything else except for training. The backpack behind my mirror had hot Chinese buns along with my kunais. Everything else I wanted to pack laid on my floor, and I took my other bag that was underneath the futon-I actually don't know how I hid my bag there-and I begun packing. I looked outside to see that barely any moonlight shone on the paths in the forests. Perfect.
I finished packing when I heard a knock on the door. I quickly threw my bag out of the window, on one of the tall trees, almost impossible to see. I turned to see the tall figure with the blue yukata by the opened door. My father's cold black eyes glared at the floor, and murmured, "I'll be expecting you downstairs tomorrow evening, we'll be having company." I nodded silently as he left the room, and I felt my heartbeat slow down. Dang it, I can't leave anytime soon. My futon seemed so comforting for such a night, and I decided to nap. I blinked my eyes, and I realized two hours passed. It must have been one in the morning and I jumped up quietly, as I grabbed the bag behind the mirror. I took one step on the windowsill, and I glanced back at my room for the last time, and I never turned back after that.