"Mom! I'm home!" Seventeen year old Rachel Harrison just walked in the door from getting off the school bus. Her parents have always been poor, and never had the money to buy a car. She dropped the backpack off her shoulder and put her keys in one of the pockets.

"Mom?" She said again. She narrowed her eyes. Something's wrong. Mom's always here when I get back from school. She thought.

"What the hell?" she said quietly. "Mom! Where are you?"

"Rachel? Is that you?"

Rachel froze and widened her eyes. It was the voice of her father, who's supposed to be at work, and he sounded drunk. Again.

Rachel swallowed and made her way into the kitchen where her dad was leaning over the sink. Rachel could smell the beer in the room. She didn't want to be there, not when her dad was home anyway. He's always been abusive towards Rachel and her mother.

"Why aren't you at work?" Rachel asked.

"Fired." He said.

From the way he said 'fired', Rachel knew he didn't want to talk about it.

"Uh, Dad, do you um, know where Mom is?" Rachel stammered.

He waved his hand and said, "Oh, she's somewhere."

That wasn't a good sign.

"Dad, what did you do!?" Rachel screamed.

He turned around and started walking towards her.

Rachel was scared and didn't know what to do. There was blood on the front of his shirt and his right hand.

"Dad, Dad stop it! Where's Mom!?"

"Face it Rachel. Your bitch of a mother is gone, gone for good. So you just need to deal with it." He said, smirking.

Rachel gagged and almost fell to the ground. Tears burst out of her eyes. She sobbed.

"Since when do you give a damn about where your mother is?" He said. He looked sea sick.

"A-always." She stammered again.

"Yeah, well I sure as hell don't. So I need to start teaching you," he said, pointing his finger at her, "to not care about her anymore and start caring about buying me some drugs when I ask ya for 'em!" he yelled. "Dammit!"

He reached into his pants and pulled out a gun. He pointed it at her.

Rachel did what he instincts told her. She ducked and ran into the living room. She heard gun fire and felt parts of the ceiling fall down on her back. She screamed.

Rachel ran into the kitchen the back way and jumped on her dad's back. She was so angry. She bit the back of his neck, tasting the blood. It didn't hurt him because the drugs and alcohol numbed the pain. He yelled and shot bullets anywhere he could. He had horrible aim because he was so drunk, but that didn't make Rachel feel like it was easier to get away. She needed to do something, and fast.

She put her hands around his neck, he dropped the gun. She let go and crawled under his legs, grabbing the gun.

She needed to call the police but the phone was disconnected because of her father's lack of money. She had no one to run to or call for help. She was on her own. Only God could help her now.

All she could do was run. Right when she got up, he grabbed her legs and she fell, hitting her head on the corner of the coffee table. She screamed and clutched her head. She didn't let go of the gun, but shot a bullet right at the TV. It blew up and fired sparks.

Her dad, who was on the floor as well, wobbled up and tried to pounce on her and grab the gun.

Rachel rolled over just in time and kicked the piano bench, which hit her dad in the head.

It didn't phase him. He stopped crawling for a second but got back to his feet.

That was all the time Rachel needed. She got up and ran to the door, fumbling with the lock and the gun.

Her keys! She picked up her backpack and ran around the kitchen for more time to get away from him, and at the same time, she was opening the pocket of her backpack to get to her keys.

She got them. She starting running back to the door but her dad was standing there, smirking. She screamed and fell backwards.

He started walking towards her, slowly. She screamed again and shook her head, crawling backwards until she got to a dead end in the corner of the house. She had nowhere to go.

She picked up the gun. "Don't go any further!" she yelled.

Rachel's dad looked all innocent and said, "Honey, calm down. I ain't gonna hurt you like I did your mother."

"I'm warning you!" she said, pointing the gun at him.

He screamed and jumped at her. She fired.

He fell down, motionless, with blood pouring out of his back and chest.

"Oh my God!" she screamed, breathless. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed. "Oh my God! I would never kill anyone! But I had to, for my own safety! Please forgive me! Oh God!" she cried.

Suddenly, she lifted her head up. The police. She opened her backpack and dumped it out, textbooks falling onto the floor.

She ran upstairs to her room and stuffed some clothes into her backpack. She ran down the stairs into the kitchen, opening the cupboards. She grabbed every snack in there.

Now for the refrigerator. She grabbed apples, breads, and the last cartoon of orange juice.

She ran into the hallway and opened the closet. All she had room for was a blanket. She grabbed it then zipped up the backpack.

She ran for the door, stopping shortly to grab her hat and her mom's big coat.

She unlocked and opened the door. She ran behind the trees and into the woods.

"Oh no!" she yelled.

She ran back into the house and grabbed the gun. She went around back and started digging a deep hole in the garden, burying the gun.

She got up, picked up her backpack, and turned towards the fence. She opened it.

Rachel looked back to the house, the little family she had was gone. Her life had turned upside down in a heartbeat.

"I love you Mom." She cried.

A tear streamed down her face as she stepped over a log and entered the woods.