Chapter 2:

I climbed slowly into the front seat of the car, putting my bags in the back seat. I looked over at my mom. "I...I'm sorry I'm this late Allie baby." she said quietly. "You're dad..." she trailed off. A nodded my head, glancing up at my mom's black eye. The rest of the car ride was silent. Completely silent. I stared blankly out the window, wishing I was back on tour. Back with Adam.

About 20 minutes later we pulled up in front of the house. I grabbed my bags out of the back seat, my mom helping me. I started walking towards the door at a slow pace. I didn't want to go back. But I had to. For my mom. I sighed and opened the door, dropping my bags on the ground by the doorway so I could take my shoes off. I picked them up along with my bags and quietly started walking up the stairs towards my room. Three steps...four... I kept walking. The next step let out a loud, almost endless "creeeeaaaak." I held my breath, waiting for the scream. But all was silent. Completely silent. Just as I was almost up the stairs, I heard the front door shut. I gasped and spun around. Just mom. But, it was loud enough for my dad to hear.

"Oh look, the little slut's home!" he yelled from downstairs, his booming voice echoing throughout the whole house. He walked out of his bedroom and over to the top of the stairs where I was. I dropped my bags and tightly gripped the railing in case he was in a bad mood. I watched my suitcase tumble to the bottom of the stairs. It hit the ground with a loud "THUMP!" It opened and my clothes spilled out all over the hardwood floor.

I bit my lip and glanced up at my dad. His fists were clenched, as were his teeth. He let out a low growl, then hit me right across the face. I lost grip on the railing and almost fell down the stairs. Somehow, I managed to settle myself. I kneeled there on the stairs, staying as low as possible as clung to the railing once again.

"Great job you worthless cretin. He stomped down the stairs and picked up my suitcase, letting the clothes still in fall out on the ground. He then picked it up over his head and heaved it at me. I shrieked quietly and covered my head with my arms. He screamed and slapped my mother across the face.

"MOM!" I cried out. My dad spun around and faced me. "Clean up this mess!" he screamed, then stormed up the stairs past me and into the bedroom, slamming the door. Tears in my eyes I went and cleaned up the mess of clothes on the ground. My mom slowly walked up the stairs silently, as if in a trance. Almost zombie-like. She opened the door of the bedroom then closed it quietly. I stopped and looked up. I heard shouting. Things were being thrown around the room.

"I'm sorry Carlos, please forgive me. I love you! Forget about the girl, just think of me." I heard more scuffling and shouting done by my father, then all was silent. I quickly threw my stuff back in the suitcase, ran up the stairs, and headed straight to my room. I slammed the door behind me and went right to my bed. I collapsed down on it and started crying.

How could she still love him after everything he's done? All the hurt he's put me, Jackie, Carlos Jr. and even HER through. And, she still loved him. It was as if she needed him. Craved him. Like she was obsessed. She put up with all the pain and suffering – all of the savage rampages and vicious fights. I couldn't understand it. At all. It was obvious he didn't care about her or the rest of us. But, she treated him like he was royalty. Like she was his humble servant, and he could do whatever he pleased. It was almost sickening. She was the one who got the worst of it too. He treated her worse than me. But still she went back to him. And still he hurt her. Still he put her through so much pain. So much suffering. She was wounded and bruised beyond repair. But it all didn't matter. It was all a twisted reality. Nothing made sense. Nothing.

Love.

That was the only thing she could thing of. Love. Is that why her mom went back to him every time? Every time he hit her? Every time he screamed at the top of his lungs words full of hate and vengeance. She would run back in his arms just like a little puppy dog. And she was left alone to suffer and wallow in her own misery.

I got up and started walking around my room, looking at everything around.

Memories.

When I looked around, everything would flood back in. Each item in my room resembling and holding a memory. Some good, some bad. Many bad. I walked over to one side of my room, running my hand over the fist-sized hole in the wall and thinking back.

It had been ages ago. I was only 8 I think. Something like that. Jackie was going to run away. I tried to convince her otherwise. It would only make things harder. Harder on her. Harder on me. She tried to force me to go with her. Said I would be better off. That someone my age shouldn't have to deal with the way life was now. She took out my suitcase and had started packing it with various items of clothes. The very same suitcase I had brought on tour. I glanced over at it for a second. If only it had worked. If only me and Jackie had gotten away. But we didn't get that lucky.

She had thrown my suitcase out the window, and slowly helped me down onto the roof. Just as she was about to climb out, my dad stormed in. When he saw what we were doing he got mad as hell. He slammed Jackie roughly into the wall and started hitting her. She had let out a blood-curdling scream and ducked away, causing my dad to miss her face and hit the wall, causing that very hole. Jackie managed to run out of my room. Then my dad spotted me, out on the roof. He yelled at the top of my lungs and started to climb out on the roof. I tried to get away, but the roof was slippery because it had been raining not too long ago. I had slipped off the roof and landed on the cold, hard pavement. I broke my leg. I ended up having to hobble over to my neighbor's house in pain so I could call an ambulance.

But that was just the beginning of my horrible childhood. I placed my hand slightly in the hole and glanced around gloomily at the rest of my room. It seemed so dark. So empty. So haunting.

I looked up at the cracked clock on the wall. Only 10. I was so tired though. No fight left in me. Almost no strength left. I walked over to my bed and climbed under the covers, purposely leaving the light on. This wasn't the place where I wanted to be in the dark. Not here. Not ever. I closed my eyes, and after about an hour of tossing and turning, I drifted off to sleep.