Author's Note: Glad you guys like it! Here you go.

Only thunder was heard as Riley sat on the porch. Heavy droplets of water ran over her skin but she barely noticed. Her eyes were intent on the street almost like they were seeing something that wasn't there. Though a spark of lighting broke whatever mirage she was losing herself in. The wind picked up and it seemed that hope would never show itself again.

Rain never bothered her, even when she was little. She remembered when it would be pouring out and all that mattered was getting wet and finding a puddle. Not anymore. No nothing was the same anymore. Hell she couldn't even remember when the last time she was outside for more than an hour in the last year. She hid in the house not wanting to face the world, especially now, since then.

Sighing she pulled a tattered picture from a zipped pocket on her cargo pants. Lifting it to her eyes a small smile appeared at the worn out image. Thumbing it her mind traveled back to that day, the day where she truly found herself.

The picture almost flew away but her grip tightened and her mind relaxed. It was the only one of her father. Her real father. She was about 15 then and standing to the left of him with a huge grin on her face. After hours of begging she finally got him to stand on the other side of the thing she loved over everything else. Her brother snapped the picture shaking his head, he knew.

The bright red still hasn't faded from it, it looked just like she remembered, maybe even a little better. It was what started it all, the car, the 93 Supra. Yeah, it the best thing and worse thing that happened to her. It made and tore her dreams apart. If only…

"Riley! Get out of the rain! I can't believe you." Her mother's voice was heard over the raging storm.

"I'm fine. Leave me alone!" She quickly shoved the picture back into her pocket before her mother noticed and took her to more therapy sessions.

"You are coming in, right this minuet." Without waiting for anymore protest, her mother wheeled her in. Riley just sat there. What could she do? She certainly couldn't fight back, hell she was useless in all sense of the word. A towel hit her in the face and she looked up with a glare.

"Now I want you to dry off." The command was given harshly but at least the drill sergeant left her to go cook something that smelled like it was burning.

Even with the loud crack of the thunder her attention was drawn to the living room. Her step dad sat lazily on the couch with his best friend in his hand. Mr. Whiskey. The amber liquid was ¾ of the way gone and he was starting to get loud. Not good. The smell was overbearing as it drifted across the room, sending shivers down her spine. Not again.

Hearing the dishes slammed into the cabinets made Riley turn around. Watching her mother move around the kitchen was another sign that shit was about to hit the fan. Just by the way her hands shook, the look in her eyes, were signs of fear. Hell she could smell it, feel it. Even with years of practice she couldn't hide it no matter how hard she tried. Riley wondered why she put up with it but in way she knew why. When you are use to being with someone it feels wrong not to be so this filth filled the void. Did it cause more pain than pleasure? Definitely.

"We have to get o-"

"Go to your room and lock your door. It'll be fine." Her mother's warning was clear.

"Why do you put up with his shit? Kick him out! We don't need him…" The conversation was cut short as her mom rolled her to her room. She was helpless, couldn't do a damn thing.

"Listen to me!" Riley's cries did nothing.

"Don't come out of this room. Good night." The door was shut and locked. Riley just sat there waiting for it all to start. She knew it wouldn't be long. Hell once that bottle gave its last drop…

Glass was heard shattering on the floor and then the heavy footfalls came to follow. Her mother's shriek signaled for the headphones to be put on. And with them came a book from under the bed and she began to write.

The terror has begun. Although I can't hear it, but I don't need to. I've heard it enough. Why my mother stays with that scum is a mystery to me. He isn't anything like my father was, not even close. They are complete opposites in everyway. I guess it is something I just can't grasp.

As I sit here my eyes travel down my body, pver my legs where they rest in this contraption. Wheels have now taken the place of them all because of one decisions of one fatal mistake. I will regret everyday for the rest of my life. If I could only take it back. Hell I would take a lot of things back. It's no use, can't change the past.

" I will never be dead unless you believe I am." He use to tell me that all the time. Of course I blew it off with a smile never really understanding what he truly meant. Do now. I didn't believe for a long time, couldn't I would have lost it. But when the accident hit everything went downhill. My minds screams for him, my father. Where are you now? You promised me you would always be there. God, I need you more than you'll ever know. Well I guess you wouldn't know, you're dead.

With everything looking the way it does right now I don't know how I am going to pull through. If I will even make it. I look at it as my punishment, my curse. I deserve it that's for sure.

Tears are now clouding my vision making it hard for me to see what I am writing but I still have one last thought. My car. It seems it is the only thing I have left now although it sits miles away in pieces. A scrappy junkyard has become its new home and I haven'y seen it since that night when my life changed forever. I remember when I was ripped out of it by the jaws of life, barely conscience I glanced at it. I didn't even recognize it. Pieces of it laid scattered around, windows all smashed. It was totaled. My poor baby she was the only thing I had left. And now she sits totally destroyed waiting to be crushed. That car will never have a second chance, no one will ever fix it or race it again. A real shame. My Supra was meant to race, it was safe to say it was about as addicted as I was.

Now, hell now there is no hope for either of us. We are both broken, way beyond repair.