A white flash blinded her eyes as stepfather slammed her against the wall once again. Her ears began to ring, blocking out his angered words. She kept thinking, what she could have done this time to get her in so much trouble. Although it did not take much to set him, off any more.

Since the death of her mother five years ago, she watched her stepfather slowly sink into depression. He was always moody, she never knew when he would blow up or when he would let her catch a glimpse of the man he use to be. Sometimes he would sit in the darken room and stare into the past. Watching him die inside was hard on her. At one time, she had called him her father, the only father she had ever known. He was the only man in her life that really cared for her. She used to love this man and he loved her. That was why she stayed. Then, adding the alcohol, he became a stranger she started to hate. Now it only took a broken glass to be reason enough to beat her. A change in the tone of her voice was a reason for him to lock her inside a closet for the night. A friend calling on the telephone was a reason to beat her with his belt until she bleed.

Her father yanked her away from the wall by pulling on her hair only to toss her down the short flight of steps. She felt her shoulder pop out of the joint and cried out as the white-hot pain scorched down her arm and back.

"I had enough of you!" He was shouting and she slowly picked herself up to pull herself across the floor, trying to escape him. Her left arm was now useless and she could taste the blood from the blows to her mouth. "I'll teach you."

Teach her what, she was not sure. What she was sure of; if she did not leave, he would kill her. Her mother always told her that an angel was looking down upon her, something she stopped believing in when her mother passed away. Tonight though, she wondered if, just maybe, her mother was right. Her stepfather started towards her but in his drunken rage, missed a step and fell to the bottom to land near her. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Watching him grasping the walls of the stairs, trying to cling to something, his head hitting the end of the telephone stand before his face finally hit the hard wooden floor. She gasps in surprise but this was her chance. Max struggled to her feet shakily and made for the door. She only looked back at her stepfather once and large part of her wanted to check to make sure he was okay, but this may be her only change of escaping. She paused on spotting his wallet on a small table beside the door and with a deep breath; she reached out and grabbed it and her jacket before heading out the door.

Max was in poor condition and traveling public transportation would be difficult with out people questioning a fifteen-year-old girl, bloodied and bruised. Hitchhiking would also be risky for the same reason and all she need was to land in the passenger seat of some pedophiler.

She walked to the nearest gas station and fixed herself up as best as she could in the restroom. That was when luck chanced her once again. A woman in her late forties walked into the rest room while Max was rubbing off the caked blood that had streamed from her nose.

"Child!" The bleached blonde gasp.

"I'm okay. I fell." Max hurried to explained, quickly throwing her paper towels away.

"You fell." The lady shook her head and put her hands on her hips. "Well honey, let me tell you I've seen a lot of girls fall and when they stand back up, never looked like you do now."

"I'm fine." Max said more forceful, her eyes glaring.

"I may not look like it but I've seen girls in your position. Let me guess, a parent did this to you? Right. A relative. Mom's boyfriend. It's all the same. They beat you over and over again. You're a local girl and tonight you are breaking free."

"It's none of your business!" Max hissed.

"No, it's not but I can still help you." The lady smiled and turned to get more paper towels. "Here let me help you clean yourself off."

Max wanted to jerk away but there was just something about this lady.

"Now, sugar. You listen to me. It was a long time ago, but I too was once in your shoes. People will tell you to go back home and they'll tell you to talk to all the right people but darlin' sometimes all that doesn't work." The woman went on. "I have done it all. I was stuck in foster care programs and I ran into the same temperamental people I tried to get away from. It is not always that way with everyone. I have seen some wonderful children go into great homes. It didn't happen to me."

Max sighed, she had thought about the same thing. She heard this story once before from other children at a local orphanage her school would help out every Christmas.

"As an adult I'll tell you to go back and speak to the police. As a person that has been in your shoes, I will tell you that my husband would never know if a girl snuck in the back of the black covered ford pick-up parked just outside this door. We are only passing through, headed to the mid-states and we stop four times day at places just like this. We sometimes drive all night, sometimes we stop by a hotel. You can pick where you went off and we would never know it. But you stay true to yourself, honey. If you look carefully, you'll find the right people willing to lend a helping hand." The lady smiled and looked at Max. "You are a pretty girl, be careful now matter what you decide."

With that, the lady disappeared. Max waited a moment and peeked opened the door and as the lady had said, a black ford pick up with covered tarp was parked near the restroom. The license plates were out of state. Max took a deep breath before leaving the rest room. She looked around carefully and as quietly as she could she pulled the hatch down and slipped inside, pulling the gate shut, she slid as far as she could into the dark undercover.

Max guessed it was three days since she had slinked into the back of that pick-up truck. Whenever it would stop, she would get out, stretch her legs, use the rest room and always come back to find some kind of food and drink stored in the back of the ford for her. She was sure people were searching for her and having the authorities find her, was something she did not want to chance. When the pick-up truck pulled up at a hotel, Max finally left her safe, hold and wondered into the quiet streets. The bruise from the days before heeled up and were only faint marks which was covered up with make-up her blonde guarding angel gave to her. As for her shoulder, she jolted it back by slamming it against a bathroom wall on the second day. It was something she never wanted to do again. There was still a dull ache that seemed to linger around her shoulder, but it was a manageable pain.