Zack breathed heavily as he ran gasping to the train station. This was it. His father had gone too far this time.
"Stop playing that guitar!" yelled Frank Mooneyham.
"NO!" replied Zack. "This guitar is my life, and I'm not giving it up just because you want me to!"
"You don't understand! Just give it up!"
"No, you don't understand! Just because you're a failure doesn't mean I have to be!"
"I'm not a failure!"
"You're a failure at being a Dad!" His father gasped, and slapped him across his cheek. Hard. Zack was shocked, however mad his father had been at him, he'd never hurt him before. His father seemed just as stunned, as he staggered to the door.
"I'm going out, and we'll talk about this when I get back!"
As the door slammed shut behind him, Zack ran upstairs and began to shove his things into a bag. He was going, and not looking back.
He slipped his guitar on, in it's case, and ran out the door. He was going wherever the trains would take him.
Zack stopped, and looking up he noticed that he was here. He went up to the plastic window, and asked the bored looking assistant for a ticket.
"Where to?" she drawled, winding her chewing gum around her finger. Zack shuddered.
"Uh, wherever I can go for..." he counted his money. "...fifteen dollars and twenty two cents." She took five dollars, and shoved a ticket at him.
"Here you go. A one-way ticket to New York City." He started to walk off. "Good look, run away!" she called after him. He turned.
"How did you know I was running away?"
"When you've worked here as long as I have, you know when kids are running away."
He turned back around, and started to walk off.
Five and a half hours later, he was in The Big Apple, with no idea what to expect.