AN: This is my first fanfic I've started and I'm pretty impressed with this first chapter. :D I always feel uncertain about where I end chapters and paragraphs because I always think they're too short. :/ But it's my first attempt at writing fanfiction so I hope you enjoy!

Johnny's POV

My eyes flickered open when the agitating sunlight felt like it was burning into the outside of my eyelids. I slowly sat up and leaned against the wall. I have no headboard, footboard, or big comfy blanket. Hell, I'm lucky the Curtis family got me a mattress last year for my sixteenth birthday. Even though I'm pretty sure I never deserved it. I've already caused them enough trouble when I have to spend the night at their house to escape overnight beatings from my father. If I can even call him that.

SMASH!

Speaking of the devil. Literally. And now comes the yelling...

"You good for nothing whore! I oughta kick you on your ass and drag you out the door!"

I rolled my eyes as my mother retorted, yelling straight back. Same fucking routine, I thought while crashing the back of my head against the wall I was leaning on a couple of times.

I wobbled as I stood up; kinda dizzy from pounding my head into the wall. Then I picked up my dark brown shirt from the corner of my empty room and pulled it on. It's one of those days where I'm glad I sleep in my jeans. Faster to get ready = faster I can get out of this madhouse. I tried combing my fingers through my messy, black-as-coal hair, but it didn't work very well so I just smoothed it over until you could barely see my really dark coloured eyes.

With sweat running down the side of my face I prayed that my folks would stop fighting for just one minute and get someone to fix the damn air conditioning. As I swiped the perspiration off both of my cheeks, I felt the rough scar placed on my left cheek. It's like when my fingertips touch this unnatural, permanent mark on my face, it activates that little part of my brain that stores all the memories I'd rather not have.

I have flashes of all those Socs surrounding me, restraining me to the ground, kicking me, that kid, Bob Sheldon, towering above me as though he were a God even though he had only been one of two years older than me, and all of his rings...

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet stomping up the stairs. And because my parents usually passed out in the living room from over-intoxication and didn't ever sleep in their bedroom on the second floor, that could only mean one thing. My dad was coming to my room; most likely needing someone else to beat other than my mom.

"Oh shit!" I whispered to myself as I dashed to the door and, quietly as I could in this situation, locked it. But I'm not stupid when it comes to my father, so if he wants in, he'll resort to breaking down the damn door.

I snatched up my jean jacket from the foot of my mattress (I use it as a blanket in late fall and winter) and quickly slipped it on... Just as my dad started pounding on the door with heavily clenched fists. (No, I can't actually see his fists, but I know my father.)

"Open this goddamned door you worthless excuse for a son!"

I actually prefer his fists better than the venomous words he spits out at me.

"C'mon Peter!" That was my mom now, "If you would actually talk to him like a respectable father, maybe John would actually open the door for you."

Her voice was unusually soft, I thought as soft thumps could be heard going up the stairs. She somehow got passed my probably enraged dad to quietly rap on my bedroom door and attempt to coax me out of my room.

"It's okay, John, you can come out of your room now. Everyone's calm."

Calm my ass. This isn't like my mother. So I just stayed quiet and unmoving, waiting for...

SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

Could she knock on the door any harder?

"You little shit! Get your ass out here and listen to your mother!"

Her voice echoed through the whole house and it wasn't helping my building headache. But, yep, that's the mother I know, hate, and cower from. And she's actually the reason everyone calls me Johnny instead of John. She calls me that, and I hate it.

I skid to my open window planning my escape, but checked my back right pocket and breathed a sigh of relief when I felt my switchblade slightly sticking out. I shoved it in farther and then climbed out the window.

AN: So there it is! lol I'm not perfect at grammar or spelling so I definitely would love correct corrections! I would also ADORE reviews saying how this was, and seeing what I need to improve. Just no flames pretty please? I mean seriously, it's my first try. lol And I'm not really pleased with the name either. I'll look at any new name suggestions in the reviews. Please Review? :D