I remember that night I ran away so clearly. It was about five years ago. I was only 13 years old. I heard my father screaming downstairs. I haven't heard that in years. Not after father sobered up when mom died. I ran downstairs fearful with a knife. I still remember the bruises. Back when Papa would go out drinking and come back and attack my mom and me.

I rubbed my eyes and yawn. I looked up to see not only my father but his group of pirates as well, Including Scroop. He was talking about leaving to go on some search with his crew but he needed money. The interesting thing is, Papa wasn't drunk this time.

"Maria!" Papa dragged in an overly-friendly tone, to the point where it was just eerie.

"I'm sorry did we wake you?" He asked with a devious grin on his face and a devilish tone in his voice.

"I guess." I mumbled. My heart pounding. Papa's pirate buddies were walking over to me too, behind him.

"She's a pretty one" Scroop said.

He leaned into papa's ear and whispered. "We could make a lot of money with this one."

Papa seemed hesitant, but agreed anyway. My eyes widened in disbelief. Scroop glances at me realizing I've heard him.

"And we better do it quick!" He lunges at me! I swing the knife in front of me stabbing him in the stomach, causing him to fall onto the ground in pain, bleeding. His pirate crew were at his side wrapping up the wound.

Papa was furious! He goes to grab me and I freeze. He pins me to the ground but I kick him in his gut. He lets go and falls on his side grabbing at his gut in pain. I use this time to get on top of him and place the knife to his neck! Well, I just couldn't do it. I would have done it now, but I was a coward back then.

Papa's eyes filled with worry with a knife to his throat but as I slowly withdrew the knife he get even angrier and lunges at me. I fall backward, dodging his attack, but he jumps on top of me and picks me up by my throat.

I begin choking and drop my knife. Trying to gasp for air but I'm cut off by the sudden pain of his nails digging into the back of my neck. I try to stop him the only why I can as tears stream down my cheeks.

"Pa…pa" I choke out somehow. His eyes widen and he loosens his grip, dropping me.

I fall to the ground gasping for air. His pirate buddies were trying to finish me off by egging him on, saying he was getting soft.

"I ain't gone soft ya hear!" He yells at them.

He looks down at me and mouths "act dead." I look at him confused before he whips out his gun and shoots me in the shoulder, close to my chest. I let out a blood curdling screech before laying there limp as my vison blurs and fades to black.

I wake up to find the house in flames. I slowly stand up still weak, as the smoke starts to get to me. Every breath and gasp burns as hot ash fills my lungs. I limp upstairs coughing violently as burning beams fall behind me.

I look over at my Papa's room and this gut feeling tells me to go in. I follow it and walk in to see a single plank of wood on the ground burning and a hole in the wall. I look in this hole to find a picture of me as a baby in my parents' arms. I slip it into my pocket. I rip off a strip of the curtain and wrap it around the bullet wound. That's when I realize my escape plan.

I open the window and lean outside gasping for air as the smoke slowly traveled into the room. I knew I was weak but this was my only was of survival.

I mustered up all of my strength and willpower and jumped out the window. In the air I started flailing in the air as I had no idea about what to do. I land on my side and scream out in pain. I look back to see the house I grew up in all of my life in flames. I limp away with tears in my eyes and sneak into an abandoned excavation site.

I find a rest area I assume was for the workers who worked here and sit down on an old, faded green, rickety couch covered in dust. As I sit all the dust on the seat explode out and start to stick to me. I brush them off as I pull out the photo from earlier. My eyes widen as I find something.

I always knew I looked different from my parents. How could I not with all the other kids reminding me and making fun of me? Maybe it's because Jim was always there to stick up for me even though he'd get bullied even more which, always made me feel bad. But I never would have guessed it was my Aunt Lucina!