The sound of dead leaves crunching came from my shoes as I walked down the leaf-covered sidewalk.

I looked up at the pale blue sky and saw how fast the puffy clouds were gliding across it. Something about taking time to think by myself felt so peaceful. Having a hectic day at a new school was exhausting. Who knew watching the clouds glide across the sky would be so...relaxing.

Feeling an object that felt like a piece of paper, I looked down at my hand.

And that's when the peaceful moment died.

The piece of paper in my hand said in bold letters:

"Damn you, Heather Valentine," I cursed under my breath. She said she was going to make my life a living hell apparently. But honestly, I doubt it. I mean, what could she possibly do?

Crumbling the piece of paper in my hand, I sighed. "How could this day get any worse?"

Of course, I spoke too soon.

A black Porsche came speeding up next to me and in the drivers seat, a boy stuck his head out of the window.

But it just wasn't any boy. Right when I saw his face, I recognized him.

Ryder Becker.

He honked the horn, "surprise bitch!" He drove up to the curve and into a puddle of mud.

The splash of mud doused my whole body. I shrieked as some of the mud went into my mouth. The mud was cold and mushy, making me cringe.

Wiping my eyes so I could see, I glared at the car that sped off onto the black road. "What the hell is his deal?" I felt like crying. "Great, now I'm probably gonna have to take five showers to get rid of this dirt and stench!"

I continued to walk, leaving muddy footprints behind me.

In between my toes, I felt something slimy moving. "What the hell?!"

I yanked off my shoe and I don't think I've ever screamed so loud. I pulled a huge pink worm from out of my shoe. "OH MY GOD EW!" Flinging it onto the grass, I put on my shoe and ran home, not caring about how heavy I felt due to all the mud.

***

The whole way home I couldn't stop sniffling and spitting out mud.

Before I reached my front door, I noticed my mother talking to the neighbors across the street. I fixated my eyes on the lady she was speaking to. The lady looked familiar, which is surprising for not knowing anyone in my new town. She had light brown hair that was pulled back into a tight bun. She had facial features the same as someone else that I knew, but I couldn't quite pinpoint the person.

The sound of an engine boomed through the street as a black Porsche pulled up to the driveway my mother and the woman were standing on.

Then I realized, a black Porsche.

"Oh dear god, please don't be who I think it is," I whispered to myself.

The drivers door opened, and out stepped, of fucking course, Ryder.

I face palmed myself. "Of course it's him. Out of seven billion people on this earth, of course it had to be him."

My mother noticed me standing at our front door, and motioned me to come to her.

I slowly shook my head and stayed put, refusing to go to her.

Even from across the street, I could tell my mom rolled her eyes at my stubbornness. She walked across the street and greeted me, then she noticed all the mud and eyed me weirdly.

I opened my mouth to explain, but she cut me off.

"You know what, I probably don't want to know." She wrapped her arm around mine, not caring that her arm was now covered in mud. "Come with me to say hi to our new neighbors, they are so nice!"

I laughed. "Nice my ass."

My mother gasped. "Autumn, language!"

"It's appropriate to say 'ass' right now. In fact, it's crucial!"

As my mother dragged me across the street, we argued about the word 'ass' which was so unnecessary.

When we finally approached Ryder's mother and, sadly, Ryder, my mother introduced me. "Lisa, this is my daughter, Autumn."

The woman held out her hand and smiled. "I'm Lisa Becker. But you can call me Lisa."

I took her hand, "nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you as well, darling. I don't mean to be noisy, but why are you covered in mud?"

I opened my mouth to say the truth that it was her cruel son but Ryder beat me to the words.

"What happened was that I was walking with my friends and on the opposite sidewalk, Autumn was walking by herself." He did a fake cough and in between his coughs he said *cough* 'loner' *cough*, which made me glare at him. "Then when I looked at her, she couldn't help but give into my charm and she stared right back. But she wasn't paying attention and she slipped and fell in mud."

"Why didn't you try helping her, Ryder?" His mom asked. I'm sorry, has she met the guy?

He smiled at her with a smile more innocent than an angel. "Of course I tried to help her, but she refused and ran away. And now here we are." When he turned his attention away from his mother and to me, his pure smile was replaced with a sinners smirk. "Do you want me to help you shower?" He asked in a baby voice.

"Ryder!" Lisa nudged him in the arm.

This is so embarrassing.

"Mom, I'm going to take a shower," I comment, feeling the need to escape this conversation.

"Oh wait for a second," my mom stopped me. "We are going to have dinner at the Becker's house tomorrow. Is that okay?"

My eyes bulged out of their sockets, and so did Ryder's. "WHAT? No!" Ryder and I both said in jinx.

He pointed at me, "jinx!"

I felt like kicking him in the place it would hurt him the most. "Shut up!" I yelled.

My mother lightly slapped my upper arm. "Autumn! Be nice!"

I've been over everyone's shit since the first minute I stepped into Willington Highs hallways. I need some time alone and I need it now.

"Whatever mom, I'm leaving." I looked at Lisa and smiled, "it was a pleasure meeting you."

"Bye Autumn," Ryder said in the most fake ass voice ever.

Without looking or responding to him, I stormed off down his driveway and up to my front door.

***

Putting the spoon up to my lips, I gasped. "This soup is way too hot! I don't think I'll be able to eat it for at least 40 minutes."

My mom laughed. "Sorry hun, you know I'm pretty awful at cooking. I'll try better next tim–"

The sound of someone unlocking our front door came from the hallway. I looked at my mother, whose eyes lit up with fear. She immediately stood up from the kitchen table and packed stuff in her purse.

"Where are you going?" I asked even though I already knew. She does this all the time when my father comes home.

"Don't worry, I'll be back shortly," she lied.

"Mom," I rested my hand on her shoulder and she froze, "please don't leave me. You know I can't deal with dad being drunk alone."

She just stood in place, as if contemplating a hard decision as to whether stay, or go. Then she looked at me. "Im so sorry my love. But I can't be here when your father is like this."

Removing my hand from her shoulder, I clenched my fist so hard that my knuckles turned white. "So you're going to leave me alone with him?"

"You're strong. You always deal with it."

"Me dealing with it is getting abused by him, mom! I can't believe you leave me every night knowing what he does to me."

"I'm so sorry." Then, she walked out the back door.

She left me, again.

The front door swung open and my dad came in, toppling over his own two feet because of how drunk he was. I stayed in my sitting position at the table, staring at my blazing hot soup.

"Autumn."

"Hello Michael." You know how some names sound bitter on your tongue? My fathers name was one of those names that made your mouth have a bad after taste.

And I will never call him dad. At least to his face.

He stood in front of me. "Why aren't you eating your soup?"

"I-it's too h-hot," I stuttered.

"Oh it's too hot eh?" With an act of violence, Michael shoved the bowl of soup off the table and in my lap, the liquid heating my legs instantly.

I screamed so loud at the painful sting, that I had to bite down on my hand so the neighbors wouldn't hear. With the soup being so hot, I jumped up and pushed the bowl off of me, making it fall onto the floor and shatter into pieces.

My fathers face turned a bright red color, fury boiling up in his veins. "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you is the real question!"

I let out a sharp cry as my fathers fist made contact with my eye.

"Now pick that up and go to bed!" Michael ordered as he walked over to the fridge to get himself a cold beer.

I went on my hands and knees and started to pick up the broken glass bowl. Every other piece, I would cut myself on accident.

Scenes like this happen with my father about 3 to 4 times a week. The nights he doesn't abuse me, he's passed out on the couch or out till 3:00am.

As I picked up the glass, I wondered: how much more pain till I become the villain? Until I become just like my father.

"I'm done." I hid my bloody hands behind my back.

"Good," Michael said as he flopped down onto the couch. "Now shut the hell up and go to sleep. I don't want to deal with you."

"O-ok," I faintly whispered as I disappeared up the stairs and into my room.

After changing into my pajamas and brushing my teeth, I curled up into bed.

Will this pain ever end? I wish someone would save me. But, who?

Then, I leaned closer to my nightstand and turned the lamp off. Shutting my eyes and falling into a deep, painless sleep.