"Cat Valentine," Mr. Valentine hissed as he drove his daughter back home. Mrs. Valentine was in the passenger seat, and she stared down at her lap with glassy eyes. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I dunno know what you're talking about ," Cat played with the string on her pajamas, wrapping it around her finger until the tip turned purple and throbbed in protest.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Mr. Valentine jerked the car to a stop and turned around with a livid expression to face Cat. "This, the hair the nose ring, the fact that you were completely disrespectful to Officer Vega."

"You're trippin'," Cat stared out the window with a vacant expression, smirking at the fact that she could make her father's blood boil like this. Amelia would be proud.

"I'm-I'm-Cat, you-," spluttered Mr. Valentine, his face turning ruddy. He took a deep breath and started to shout. "YOU ARE GROUNDED, YOUNG LADY! I DON'T KNOW WHAT ON EARTH YOU'RE THINKING, BUT I AM NOT ACCEPTING THIS BEHAVIOR FROM YOU AND-"

"Please," Mrs. Valentine sternly laid her hand on her husband's shoulder, and he froze. "Just drive."

"We have to take this from her brother, but we do not have to take this from her," he said, breathing heavy. "You can't defend her this time, I'm not-"

"Drive," she repeated, and he closed his eyes. The car was silent for a moment, Cat watching the turmoil she had so delicately caused with mild interest.

"Fine," Mr. Valentine said shortly turning around and gripping the steering wheel. His knuckles were white and the wheel shook with pressured anger. "Fine."

The rest of the ride was silent, and when Cat got home she promptly changed into a pair of black flood pants Jade had left over the last time she visited and a ripped tank top. She was in the middle of painting her nails with some black polish her brother had bought (long story) when a knock came at her bedroom door.

"I'm decent," Cat called, and the door banged open. Her father stood there with a trying-to-contain-my-fury-but-I-really-just-want-to-freak-out-and-scream-at-you look on his face.

"That doesn't make sense and it's creepy," he said sternly.

Cat raised her eyebrows.

"You mad, bro?"

"Cat, I am not doing this," he said, his voice deathly quiet. "Listen to me right now, young lady. I deal with this from your brother because I have no choice but you? I have a choice with you. I am going to nip this new you in the bud and you will go back to normal at once, or I swear we are going to send you away just like we did your brother. I will not have this riffraff in my house, Caterina, and if you refuse to obey me-"

"I'm out," Cat stood up, and brushed past her father.

"Excuse me?" he spluttered.

"I'm out," Cat repeated. "As in, I'm leaving. See ya around."

She started to collect things in the duffel bag she had gotten from juvie, the one Amelia's makeup had been in. She threw in her phone and ipod, a few t shirts and some pants vaguely conscious of her father's eyes on her.

"Where will you go?" he asked surprisingly calm.

"Doesn't matter, I'll find a place," Cat said, swinging the bag over her shoulder. "Nobody's going to tell me what to do."

He crossed his arms, and Cat realized he was blocking the door. She stood, only two thirds his height with raised eyebrows and a cocky expression.

"Move, old man," she said and her father reached up to massage his temples like he did when he got a headache.

"Cat, listen to me for a moment," he said, and his voice was soft now, pleading with her. "If you want to dress differently, that's fine. But I'm not going to tolerate the disrespect or the way you've been talking to me. Please stay at home, don't worry your mother by leaving. I will move away from the door and you can make your choice, but honey,"

His warm eyes connected with hers, chocolate brown and very sad. The strong man Cat knew her father to be was nothing more now than a pathetic man, reaching out to hold on to the daughter that was already so far gone.

"Your mother and I love you," he said softly, nearly begging now. "Please, please stay."

He moved away from the door, and Cat watched with slight astonishment in her heart as a tear leaked down her father's cheek. She had never seen her daddy cry before…

As if in slow motion, Cat stood with the duffel bag in her hands, scanning the situation. There it was, the door. She could walk out it now, and leave the heartbroken, crying man who had given her life and love behind her and now in favor of a life on the streets, going where she wanted and doing what she wanted like Amelia.

She watched her father's heartbroken face as he tried to make like he was rubbing his bald head to wipe the tears from his eyes so she wouldn't see he was crying hard now. His jaw wobbled, and she felt a pang of remorse for how much she knew she was hurting him.

Vaguely, she looked from the duffel bag to her bed. Comfy, pink and soft it promised a warm place to sleep and a family who loved her. The duffel bag represented the unknown and cold winds and lonely nights.

Cat took a deep breath, and walked forward to her father as though she was going to fall into his arms like she used to and let him kiss her forehead and rub her back, relieving her of all the scary things in the world, of all the pain and fear. Mr. Valentine opened his arms hopefully, and a little smile found its way onto his face at the prospect of holding his girl. But at the last second, Cat turned away and the old man fell to his knees as she walked out the door.

"Cat," he croaked. "Don't do this."

She turned around for one last look at him, trying to keep her eyes cold even though she wanted to hug him more than anything else in the world. She watched as he reached out to her, pain etched on his face.

"Bye, Daddy."

Note: I'm back! Poor Cat's dad. All he wanted was for her to go back to normal! :( Review, 143.