Chapter One ::: Home Life

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Erik looked up from the sketchbook she had been drawing in to focus on the figure that stood in the doorway to her bedroom. Her mother stood there, dressed in a silk black robe that seemed to have been hastily put on as it wasn't tied properly and the fabric was slipping down the older woman's shoulders. Erik noticed the tousled look of her dark hair and the term "sex hair" immediately came to mind.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" her mother repeated again, her voice on the verge of becoming a shout as she tried to make herself heard over the blaring music in the room. Erik simply stared for a moment before turning back to her sketch; a simple drawing of a face with various tattoo images and piercings – it was as if she was testing to see what would look good on a face so that she could maybe get them herself one day.

One moment her iPod was playing "mOBSCENE" by Marilyn Manson before changing to "Suicide is Painless." Then suddenly, there was no music playing at all as a small thud sounded along with the clatter of plastic hitting plastic. Turning her head to see what had happened, Erik pushed herself up from the position she had been in of laying on her stomach across the twin-sized bed. Her baby blue eyes widened in shock and her mouth opened in a silent gasp as she stared at the radio and speakers scattered across the floor beside her dresser; her iPod was nowhere to be found among the pieces. Then the rage tore through her and her eyes narrowed at her mother who was now standing beside the dresser – the obvious culprit of this crime.

"I told you to turn that shit off," the older woman stated simply as if she had done nothing at all.

"Mom!" Erik nearly yelled as she stood from her bed. "What the hell? You didn't tell me anything!" She wanted to swear with every curse word she knew, but she knew respect and had thus learned to control her language when around her mother.

"It's nearly midnight and I don't need to hear this shit when I have to get up early. Do you have any idea what tomorrow is?"

A small spark of hope ignited within her, but she should have known better than to assume that her mother would remember her birthday.

"I have to help with the promotion ceremony tomorrow and then I have to work my fucking ass off all day."

Of course. It was all about the woman's job and never about her daughter. Erik should have known better.

"Stacey?" a muffled voice called from down the hallway.

"I'm coming, John." Stacey gave her daughter a stern glance, almost like a warning to stay silent, before she left the room.

"Yeah, destroy my room then go fuck your asshole boyfriend. Bitch," Erik said, intending the words to be murmured, but her anger had taken over and was making her not care if her mother heard the departing words or not. Apparently her respect had dwindled down and did not go very far anymore.

"What was that?" her mother reappeared in the doorway.

"I said…" there was a brief moment where Erik intended to think of whether she should repeat the words or not, but before she could even begin to think of the consequences, the words were tumbling out of her mouth again. "Go fuck your asshole boyfriend."

She didn't even see her mother crossing the room before she felt the hard slap across her cheek. "How dare you speak to me that way," her mother snarled.

"I got this, babe. Go wait for me in bed," John said, walking into the room and putting his hand on Stacey's shoulder to push her toward the door; she didn't go very far, wanting to see how exactly he was going to take care of this situation. "You wanna talk shit to your mom, little girl?" John took a step toward Erik, but she wouldn't look at him – it sickened her just to think of his balding head, that massive potbelly, and those mean eyes that always seemed to undress her. "Look at me, you little bitch."

But she wouldn't, and this earned her another hard slap across the face; this time it actually stung her cheek. Then he formed his right hand into a tight fist and punched her in the stomach, making her double over before he slapped her again, making her fall back across the bed. Her head slammed against the wall and she thought she saw white spots flash before her eyes – but it didn't hurt that bad for her to see such things, she didn't hit the wall that hard. Or so she thought.

Maybe she had, but she couldn't feel all of the pain coursing through her now; she could only feel bits and pieces of it, as if she was broken and could only feel so many parts of her body. Ever since the abuse had started years ago, she had tried to teach herself how to ignore the pain altogether, but it never entirely worked. Obviously.

"Go get my belt," John said to Stacey who was leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.

There was a moment of silence.

"I said to get my fucking belt!" John yelled at her, his own rage building at the lack of her response.

Stacey shook her head slowly, not daring to look at her daughter. "No, John. Remember what happened last time? We can't have that happen again."

Last time. Erik could have laughed if she wasn't feeling so pissed off. Last time John had tried to beat her with his belt, she had tried to run from him and he ended up pushing her down the stairs. The result was a broken right arm and a trip to the hospital. Afterwards, the abuse had still continued, even with her injured arm, but they had never used a belt on her again for fear of what the next result may be.

Growling, John roughly pushed Stacey out of his way before returning to their room. As soon as he was out of sight, Erik stood, the soft white carpet tickling her feet as she moved about the room. She grabbed any money she could find laying about and stuffed it into her Hoodie Bag purse. She reached for her cell phone, then abruptly changed her mind and turned to get her boots instead.

"What are you doing?" Stacey asked, suddenly sounding exhausted.

"Going out." Without waiting for a response from her mother, Erik grabbed an extra pair of clothes and stuffed them into her purse – she didn't even know what she had grabbed, as long as she had something to change into. Grabbing her keys off of her dresser, she left her room and began to make her way toward the stairs.

"Where are you going?" her mother continued questioning, following her steps. "It's after curfew."

"Fuck the goddamned curfews!" Erik snapped, practically running down the stairs and hurrying toward the front door.

"Erika LeAnn Richards! Get in this house!"

The door slammed shut and she was gone.