I tried to insert the key and open the door as quietly as possible but it was no use. The door creaked and footsteps drew near. My hands trembled as shivers ran through my body. Brock stomped into the room.

“Where the hell have you been‽”

“At the library, studying.”

“You shouldn’t be studying. I told you to get a job so you can help pay the bills!”

“I’m only sixteen, I won’t drop out so you and mom can buy more booze!”

“Do you think your broke a** is going to get into college?”

Brock undid his belt and pulled it out of his jean loops. Her wrapped it around his wrist and drew his hand up. My back was already screaming in pain from this morning. I winced as the cold leather cut my old bruises. After a few minutes I dropped to my knees.

“Come on! Get up whimp!”
Brock downed some more of his beer and thankfully passed out. What a gentleman. Brock was unemployed boyfriend number eight for my mother. God knows what she sees in him. Then again she’s such a mess that she probably can’t attract anyone else. Mom and Brock’s hobbies are the same: drinking, popping pills, and yelling at me. Everyday they try to get me to drop out of school. Isn’t the parent supposed to take care of the child and not the other way around?

I walked to the back of my tiny apartment. My mother lay on her bed, surrounded by cold vomit. Her beer was spilt down her shirt and pills were all over the floor. I pushed my hand against her chest and found her still breathing. I’m surprised that she hasn’t killed herself yet.

“Susan where the hell is your money? Tell your mom that if she deosn’t get it to me by the end of the night you guys are out of here!” Morty,my landlord ,yelled from the other side of my apartment door.

“Damn.” I sighed as Morty left and continued to bang on doors for rent money.

We were going to get kicked out onto the streets again. Take a wild guess who Brock and mom were going to blame. I would already be out of this place but being homeless in the middle of January in New York would probably cause me to freeze to death. If I had just a little money I would have run away a million times. Anything is better than living with my mom and whatever boyfriend she decided to date this week.