I open my eyes, panicking. I don't remember having gone to sleep. I see that I'm alone in my room. The glass I left now had dried blood in the bottom, indicating I must have been asleep for quite some time.

By the darkness in the room, I can tell that it's about 9 o'clock at night, the remaining glimmer of the sunset still lingers on my walls. I get out of bed, and stretch. My room is a mess, but I don't care. In fact, I treasure it this way. It is proof of the fact that I have some control over my life.

I'm hungry, but I ignore it. I'll eat after my mom and Dick go to bed. For now, I'll just sneak out of the house, and keep myself entertained for the next couple hours. I grab my studded bracelet, and put it on my left wrist, to hide all evidence of my actions.

I climb down my tree, and decide to head for the same park as before, who knows, perhaps skater boy is there? Skater boy. Ha. Well I don't do ballet, so maybe this will end up alright. I arrive there. Not a soul to be seen.

I sit down on the bench, and try to think positive thoughts, which as usual gets me giggling. Don't get me wrong, I'm not laughing, because I'm happy. I'm laughing at myself, not with myself, if you follow me.

I'm tired of sitting here, I'm about to head back, just for the sake of having a purpose, when I hear the sound of skateboards rolling across dented pavement.

The skateboarders turn the corner, this time, there are three of them. Fortunately, the one who came to talk to me before hand, was one of them. In the distance, he looks up and sees me, and he says something to his companions, because they look at me.

As they approach, I great them with a little wave, and a sarcastic look. His two friends act like they didn't see me, and begin to skateboard. Him, on the other hand, approaches me, with caution, but nonetheless, he seems concerned.

"Are you going to get up and run away if I sit down next to you?" He inquires. This time I notice a slight accent, he's not an anglophone.

I shrug and reply "No guaranties."

"Names Pierre." He says, and looks at me expectantly.

"Helen." I reply.

"So" He continues, attempting to get a conversation going.

"So" I reply, caring but not wanting him to think so.

Abruptly, he seems to change his mind about me, for worse or better I'm not certain.

"Why were you crying earlier?" His two friends give up their pretense of not listening and come a sit down on their skateboards, intrigued by me.

"My mom's a bitch and her boyfriend's a cocky sad excuse for a human being."

Their eyes grow wide, and they look every where but at me, after a couple of seconds, one of the two on the ground says to me "How can you talk about your mom like that?"

I smiled, finally a reaction out of them other then pity, a real emotion this time: disgust.

"I'm not saying she doesn't love me, or that she doesn't try. She's just not a nice person. She's worried about how my future will affect hernot me."

Pierre shakes his head, he can't understand me. Neither does the one who so blatantly rejected me. Only the quiet one seems like he might understand.

"What about you?" I ask of him.

He looks up at me, but doesn't respond. He seems to be waiting for me to say something more. I try and stare him down, but he stares at me with equal intensity. For once, I'm the one to back down.

Pierre, uncomfortable with the awkward situation, decides I need to be properly introduced.

"Helen, this is Chuck, you probably remember him from before, and the silent one, is my best friend, David."

Chuck does a little wave at me, and David nod's his head in greeting and perhaps even acceptance. Chuck even adds an "I like your style." comment. I look down at my torn baggy jeans, my bright blue suspenders, and my black MxPx sweatshirt and shrug.

Pierre notices my studded bracelet, and asks to see it. Reluctantly I take it off, and pray that none of them notice the scars or scabs there. Pierre tries my bracelet on and Chuck looks at the inch long spikes with envy.

David on the other hand, notices. Of course one of them had to, it's just my luck. He looks away from my wrist, and up at me. We share a moment, a strange connection. He still doesn't speak a word to me. But he doesn't reveal the information he just obtained to his friends. He then pulls up the sleeve of his own sweatshirt, just enough for me notice his own scars.

Pierre returns the bracelet, and I restore it to its rightful place. I stand up and say "This time, I won't run, but I gotta go."

To everyone's great surprise David stands up and says, "I'll come with." The first words I've heard him speak. He too has a faint accent, quite attractive to the ear.

With out another word, we begin to walk out of the park. We're silent all the way to the front of my house. When I slow to a stop, he looks at me expectantly, after a couple seconds of hesitation, he says "If ever you want to talk sometime, I can give you my number."

I can't help myself I laugh. I think he's injured, because he looks away from me, but I hastily explain myself, for some strange reason I don't want him to think badly of me.

"I do want to talk, it's just that's the second thing you've said to me since we met!"

Relieved, he smiles then adds "You can speak with more then words." He then pulls out a pen. I pull up my right sleeve revealing my flawless skin. He hastily rights his phone number, then replaces my clothing, as if my bare flesh makes him nervous.

He calls a quick "Good bye." and leaves taking long strides.

I shake my head at him as he leaves, he's one strange kid. I sigh and head towards my room, thinking about what I could steal from the fridge. I climb the tree, and enter my room as I customarily do. But this time I don't pay attention to my surroundings, so by the time I get into my room it's too late.

Dick is standing in my room rummaging through my things, tossing stuff on the ground and kicking it around. My mother, isn't even trying to stop him, she's leaning on the doorframe, a cigarette in hand, a cheap nightgown wrapped around her. As soon as I make my abrupt entrance, Dick throws the lighter at me.

"Where are the drugs?" He inquires, menacingly

"What drugs?" I reply innocently

"Don't give me this bullshit, where are they?"

As I try and maneuver myself between Dick and the glass containing my dried blood, my mother finally tries to come to my aid, please note my sarcasm.

"Don't you give us that crap, we know you've been doing something up here, and now we finally know what."

"Listen," I begin.

"Don't you dare say another word." Dick adds.

"Or else what?" I say taunting him.

"Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it? Are you some masochist bastard who wants to be punished? Let me tell you, I've got my belt on right now, and just one more peep out of you, and you'll regret it."

"Get the fuck out of my room!" I yell. "I won't have you treating my like garbage in here!"

"This is MY house"

"NO! It's not yours it belongs to my mother and me. No one else! You're nothing but the entertainment of the week!"

As I speak those words, I realize that he's going to feel that he has a duty to fulfil. His arm reaches back, for momentum and I watch it swing in slow motion, then approach my face. The impact jarred through me, I cry out, the pain becomes more and more acute, as he stands there glaring at me.

"Serves you right." He says and stalks out of the room.

"Fucking troglodyte." I mutter under my breath, as my mother approaches me.

She inspects my face, and lightly touches the newly battered area that has already started to swell.

"Ill go see if we have any steak." She says as she walks out of the room.

My appetite completely gone, I spread out on my bed, and shut my eyes, searching for the sweet release of sleep.