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 scattered 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 doesn’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.
I swaggered to my room and thumbed through my belongings. There wasn’t much, just a few essentials. Picking up my backpack, I stuffed a few pairs of clothes, a journal, and a toothbrush in it. I took as much food as I could fit in my bag. Mom and Brock wouldn’t notice since all they do is drink.

I glanced at the floor and saw Brock, my throat got tight and my chest felt like it was being squeezed. I jumped on his testicles and stomach in hopes that Brock would feel it when he woke. It’s unbelievable how my mother could choose a loser like Brock over me. Her idea of showing love for me is giving me smokes once a month; she probably won’t even notice that I’m gone.

For the first time, I left my apartment and didn’t feel nauseated by the fact that I would have to return. Halfway down the narrow hallway I ran into Morty who was collecting rent.

“Where’s my money Susan?”

“I don’t have it. Ask my mother.”

“I would if she wasn’t always passed out. You need to get me that rent money. I don’t care how you get it, just do it and fast.”

“Morty, there’s no way that I can get you that money.”

Morty shoved me into the wall and put a hand on my throat. I tried to pull his hand off but he was huge and I couldn’t even grip it.

“Look here child, I need that money. I will hunt you down on the streets like a dog. If you like living I suggest that you have $500 by the end of the week.”

He retracted his arm and went on his way. I fell to the floor, gasping for air. Morty knew everyone in the city, It’d be easy for him to track me down. All I could do was get him the money that he longed for.

Somehow I managed to pull my sore body off the floor and plunge it down the stairs. Cold air cut through my face like a knife as I pushed open the building door. The whole neighborhood was completely broken down. Buildings were destroyed, everyone on the streets were homeless or a thug. Glass shattered as teenagers broke into liquor stores, everyone seemed to have a hungry look in their eyes.