I was sitting on my bed. Well, my old bed. It was the bed I had when I lived with my parents. The memories of that house, that bedroom, were terrible. My father was abusive. He would find any excuse to come and beat me. I couldn't do anything about it. I always looked to my mother to help me out. She would in the beginning, when I was very young. When my father's attention got pulled away from me, he would just go off and beat my mother. She probably got sick of taking the beatings for me so she stopped helping. Instead, she thought I should owe her for all the times she took it for me. She used me as a shield. Now my father only had one target, me.

My father was always drunk. You could always smell the alcohol on his breath when he came close. As I got older, I figured out the way of life. Do what he says, stay out of his way, get out of the house as much as possible, but be home at 5:00 sharp or else you will get hurt for being late.

I lived like this until I was seven. It was summertime and my world was just about to be turned upside down. It was late. My father was supposed to be home for dinner but never showed. We waited for him but after a while we ate in silence. He must have gone to the bar with his friends again. That's what he always does after work.

He came bursting into the door around 9:00. My mother and I were watching television. He came stammering in, barely able to stand up. He looked angry, but it was hard to tell if he was actually angry or he was just too drunk. He came into the room and started cursing at us. I couldn't really understand what he was saying because he was slurring all of his words together. He stared at us like we were supposed to answer him. I didn't know what to say. He looked me and then my mother. I thought he was going to come over and beat me again. Instead, he went over and beat my mother. I was surprised that he wasn't beating me but I really didn't care. I started to get up in order to get out of his radar until he yelled out to me to sit down. I was debating on what to do but I reluctantly sat.

He left the room for a moment and came back holding something behind him. He walked over to where my mother was sitting and smiled. I wanted to run but my legs wouldn't move. He pulled a knife out from behind his back and started stabbing my mother. He kept stabbing and stabbing until she stopped moving. Now I was really trying to get up and run. My brain was going crazy trying to stand up. I just couldn't.

My father left my mother's side and walked up to me. He started raising the knife and I knew this was it. I was going to die. The first stab came and went into my right shoulder, he raised the knife again and stab me again, this time in the stomach. My brain and limbs were finally connecting and I got up. I was in so much pain but I started fighting him. I grabbed his wrists and held them away from me. His grip on the knife loosened and I saw my chance.

I grabbed the knife out of his hands and turned it on him. I started stabbing him in the stomach. I was going insane. He just killed my mother, he just stabbed me, he should be dead for everything he has done to me in the past. He should die. I need to kill him. I kept stabbing until he fell to the floor. I stabbed a couple more times until I was sure he was dead.

I was shook out of my nightmare by someone calling my name, "Amber? Amber!"

I opened my eyes to see Stella shaking my shoulder, "what?"

"You okay? you were screaming and thrashing about," she stated worried.

I calmed myself down and looked around. I still couldn't see anything in the room, "I'm fine, just having a bad dream."

She kind of scoffed off my answer, "it's got to be one hell of a nightmare then."

"It's just that this place reminds me of my past quite a bit," I answered softly.

Stella gasped, "you've been in this situation before?"

"Like I said before, you have to do the best you can in every situation. Make the best of it," I shrugged.

There was a long pause. I could tell Stella was debating on whether or not to ask the question that was eating at her, "What happened last time?"

"Last time? I—did my foster parents tell you anything about my life yet?" I asked hoping the answer was no.

Stella sat there trying to remember, "they said you have had many unfortunate accidents in your life that you couldn't control."

"That's an understatement. You want to know what happened last time I got kidnapped? I had just ran away from my foster parents' home, my first set, I didn't want to go back into another foster home. I planned on living on the streets until I was old enough to buy my own home," I started. I paused for a moment.

"What happened next?" Stella asked.

"I was walking down the street when a van pulled up beside me and pulled me in. By the time I could respond, there were already three guys on top of me holding me down. I got taken to an old farmhouse. It was very secluded," tears were about to fall down my face, "I got sold for sex."

Stella didn't respond for a long time. Probably because she didn't know what to say. Finally she spoke up, "Your foster parents must have missed you."

I shook my head, though she couldn't see it, "No. My foster parents were dead. I found them hanging by the ceiling that morning. It's why I ran away."

"Oh my. I'm sorry," was all she was able to say.

I was starting to cry now, "you know, I read the note they left behind and it said they killed themselves because I was to much work. They didn't want the hassle."

Stella was trying to comfort me as best she could, "it's not your fault."

"The cops have come and found me the only one alive in a room full of people too many times. Next time it happens, they probably won't believe me. No one can die here. I can't go to prison, I can't go into another foster home," I started ranting.

"Wait," Stella interrupted, "Don't worry, no one is going to die. Also remember, I am a CSI. They will believe me. You aren't going to go to prison for self-defense."

"That's what everyone says. If you are defending yourself it's okay. The only problem is that I have had to defend myself in every new place I go to. Everyone I have ever known is dead," I was going hysterical now.

Stella and I just sat there. No one said another word.