A/N: This is a completely, un-drafted random story with no preparation. I just got the concept and you'll just have to go easy on me for it and I do not own O.C. characters bla di bla di bla and crap...why do we have to always say that? Who would actually say "Oh yeah, I own the story of Lord of the Rings, The O.C, Spiderman and Cruel Intentions or whatever." so why do we ALWAYS HAVE TO SAY THAT?! Sorry...I'm in a bad mood because I don't know where this story's going and I know FanFiction vultures will probably rip this apart! : )

She felt the eyes bore into the back of her neck, even when he wasn't there.She heard the sounds. He was drunk…again. She wouldn't make a sound or he'd find her. It was a game of hide and seek, but she couldn't be found. If she was found, she would die. She felt the breath catch in her throat as he rampaged through the house, screaming with fury, bellowing her name over and over.

If Mum didn't leave, she felt tears stinging her eyes, this would never have happened.

She couldn't tell anyone. It never happened. She shut her eyes and blinked away a tear of dread welling in her eyes.

She could call for help, but no one would hear her. Only him – and she didn't want to be found. She waited for him to pass it, usually onto a table. She'd know it was safe once she heard the reassuring thud. She waited with baited breath, hyperventilating in shallow gasps. She heard him enter her room, but he didn't come to her spot. He strode past her hiding place, but she pulled a big jacket around herself as a security blanket. Sheheard him bellow as he pulled back her blankets and discovered she wasn't there.

"WHERE ARE YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH?!" he screamed.

Please, let the phone ring, let someone knock at the door, please let someone save me, she repeated this mantra over and over in her mind, but the phone didn't ring, there was no one at the door and she was all alone with this monster. She heard his feet stumble down the stairs and the clink of the booze cabinet opening. She shut her eyes and shoved her shoes to one side as sheimagined what he was doing now. She saw him, stumbling into the lounge room where the liquor cabinet stood, him muttering incoherent words,him picking up the vodka and swigging it like it's the milk carton in the mornings. Then she braced herself for what she knew was about to happen when she heard a low, guttural moan. Then she heard the crash of the glass table as he fell through it. It was her chance. She quietly opened my wardrobe door and slipped out silently. She picked up her bag that she had stowed away under her bed and fumbled with her mobile phone. She was terrified that it would ring when it was under the bed. If it rang, he would know she was close by and he'd gut her like a fish. 11:47 pm,glared up at her and she winced at the brightness of the light.

She looked at her tiny bag of clothes and scuttled down the stairs like he was behind her. She gritted her teeth when she realised she would have to sneak right through the booze room. She breathed quietly, and attempted to psych herself up.

"Okay, I can do this." She muttered, "I can."

Not even she believed herself.

She poked her head through the door. He was sprawled out on the floor, hanging through the broken glass table. The floor shined like diamonds, with beads of glass all over the floor, not just under the mangled corpse of a once-beautiful table. She frowned – she hadn't worn anything on her feet…there wasn't enough time to get anything when he slammed open the front door. She decied to bite the bullet and just do it. She had to walk over broken glass to get away - literally.

Don't think, she coaxed herself, don't think about it.

She gingerly stepped onto the expensive carpet. She winced as the glass shredded the bottoms of her feet. Once she got through the room, she hesitated. Then she stopped completely to inspect the bottoms of her feet. They were shredded, with fragments of glass embedded in them. Dots of blood stained her heels and the balls of her feet. She hobbled eventually down the streets of the town, avoiding the main roads as much as possible. Eventually she reached her destination -the front door of her best friend's house – she'd help her, even if it was midnight.

She thumped the door with a weak palm and the door opened almost instantly.

"Oh my God, Summer." Said Marissa Copper as she realized who was on her doorstep. She was dressed in a green shirt and jeans, so she took some comfort in the fact she hadn't woken her best friend.

"Please, help me, Coop." Summer Roberts winced, and then the events of the traumatic night overtook her and she fainted right away into her lifelong friend's arms, completely oblivious to how close she had brushed with death.