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¬¬¬¬Chapter 1

Fuck this shit. I flop onto the bed. Urgh, I hate this. I hate her. I hate him. I hate them all! Fight, fight, fight. I swear, that's all we do. Another screaming match here; in the one place in the world where it's supposed to be peaceful. If your home is where your heart is, then my heart's doomed.

Ha.

Ronnie Radke said something along those lines. I pump him up from my tiny black stereo in the corner of my room. These days, there are few things that calm me as much as he does. His melodies drown out the yelling I hear from the other end of the house, as well as in my head.

How does it feel, knowing you're buried inside?

I'll tell you. It doesn't feel good one bit. That's for sure.

Anyway; let me introduce myself. My name, for starters is Philippa Anne Zita Hehir. But I'll rip out your kneecaps and roast them in a stew if you mock me for that name, or call me it in its entirety without good reason. So to be on the safe side, call me Pip. Or Pippa. Nah; Pip.

Age? Fuck; one of the things I hate. Fifteen. Caught in between ten and twenty. Can't remember who said that, but they hit the nail right on the head. Not a kid, but not an adult. A decade and a half alive and you barely get to cross the road without having your hand held.

But that's partly my parents' fault. No scratch that, it is my parents' fault. If only they weren't so god-damned protective. Obsessive. I have no clue what their problem is. It's not as if they are treating me like they did my sisters.

Pah. My sisters. My fucking 'Perfect' Sisters. Generous Genevieve and Darling Dominica. I swear I can't go through a day without hearing Mum or Dad telling me how much harder I am to raise than they were. "We didn't have to explain ourselves to your sisters!" Uh, excuse me? You didn't because you couldn't be fucked. Or if you did, you couldn't bear the thought of being proven wrong.

Well, enough rant. I'm sure you're getting bored. But trust me. The story has barely begun.

So here I am, lying on my bed. Seething with anger. Today, as it was every other day, it was my computer usage. "We never talk to you… It's not healthy… You're not living in the real world" And all that jazz. Well Dr and Mrs Hehir, it's not as if you want to talk to me. You hate what I like. You don't give a damn about what I do unless it mars your image of a perfect world. I laugh at that. Oh the audacity! I hide behind my computer because I don't wanna have yet another fight. But like that's gonna happen.

I roll over. I just wanna escape this God awful town. Go do something actually worthwhile. Not studying random crap that will never help me in real life. Seriously, when am I ever gonna use An Analysis of the English Revolution? Not any time soon, if ever. I wanna be like one of those heroines in my books. Clary from The Mortal Instruments series. Usagi from Sailor Moon. Hell, I'll even settle for Elena from The Vampire Diaries. Yeah, I'm that desperate.

Hm… well maybe one of these days, I'll pluck up the courage to run away. Just go. I don't know where, maybe Tokyo. New York. Paris.

Just somewhere to get me out of this hell.

"You know what Mum? If I wanna wear frilly dresses with bows, I bloody well will!" I shouted. I know what you're thinking. Something along the lines of "What the fuck?" Hahahaha. Well I'll tell you what, despite my swearing and general angst at the world, I love the Japanese fashion movement known as Lolita. Google it. Its sorta mega awesome. But to Mum it's just another sign that I'm weird.

"I know you will, sweetheart. But not with my money!" She always starts off soft. Sweet. Yeah, whatever Mum. You're not fooling anyone.

"Are you listening to me one bit? I earned this money! I saved it! IT'S MINE! I can do whatever I bleeding want to with it! It's not as if I'm hiring hookers!" I retort.

I've been saving up for this super cute Innocent World dress. And it's been hard. Dad hates the idea that I get a job unless it's filing for him.

"Well that may be so, but you need to use a credit card to buy it. And do you have one? No! So stop asking!"

"Far out, you let Dominica use it!"

"Don't bring your sister into this." Dad finally says something from behind his paper.

"Why not? You never let me forget how much I don't live up to her and Genevieve's standards." I say bitterly, shoving my sweaty hands into my pocket. I always get sweaty palms when I get worked up like this.

Mum blinks up innocently, her voice reproachful. "That's not fair Philippa… You know we love you."

That's the last straw. I gotta get outta here before I say something truly awful. I walk out of the living room, and mutter at the door "Yeah, well, sometimes I doubt that."

God almighty have mercy. I can't live with these two. I sit on the bed so hard that I nearly bounce off. Stupid fucking bed. I look away at my tattered copy of Huckleberry Finn. I can see myself doing that. Running away on a raft down a river with a black guy. Make that a hot black guy and I'm all yours, baby.

You know what? Stuff this. I've got three hundred dollars in my pocket. I could do it. I could leave tonight. Just run. Turn around and go. To wherever the stars point me…

Imagining a happy future with no boarders… I fall asleep on the bed, my mascara marring the sheets as my tears slowly dry.

"And now you wish that you meant something… and now you wish that you meant something to somebody else…"

Fuck, I love 'Escape the Fate'. They're the perfect therapy for me. I can belt my lungs out or just let their beautiful lyrics and melodies roll over me. Right now, I'm just chilling in my room on the internet, Google-ing posters of them. Because my walls are currently looking very bare.

Mum and I got in another fight again today. It's sickening. I'm gonna be here, stuck in this hell hole for another three weeks. Then it's off to school. Now, don't get me wrong, school sucks. Particularlyboarding school. But hey, I've said it once, I'll say it again. I'm desperate.

Just as Craig Mabbit finishes his song with a smexy-scream-solo, my phone goes into a vibrating frenzy. I glance down at the caller I.D. Jason.

"Hello, Anastasia O'Hallaran speaking" I say with my sing song "phone" voice.

Jason replies in his cute little deep voice. "Hey Ana, its Jason." I smile. My ex- is adorable. I am kinda majorly head-over-heels in love with him. Well, as in love as a fifteen year old can be. I ruined our relationship by being too distant, a fact I regret. Right now I'm trying my best to win him back.

"I know." I giggle. Seriously? Giggling? Urgh, this kid brought out the worst in me.

I hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "Course you do. You know everything."

"Damn straight."

"Sure sure," he laughs. "So what's up?"

"The ceiling." I say with a smirk. I always answer that question like that.

He groans. "Still going strong with that one? Honestly Ana…"

We continue along this track for an hour and a half, letting the easy conversation flow. One of the great things about Jason, besides his sexy intelligence and common interests, is that I can just talk to him. No pressure, no awkward gaps, no lies.
It's the perfect therapy to my home life.
Just as we get onto the good stuff (discussing the evolution of manga from 1990-2010), Mum's shrill voice calls out.

"ANASTASIA ANNE O'HALLARAN! COME HERE NOW!"

I jump a mile high off the bed. "Shit, gotta run Jace. Mum. Love ya!" I say quickly and hang up. What is it this time? My good mood disappears like water through hands.

I stomp out to the living room where Mum is standing with her hands on her hips, her face fierce.

I groan.

This provokes a scowl from Mum. "Don't give me attitude, young lady."

"What? I didn't say anything!" I protest.

She sighs, and indicates the couch. "Sit."

Huffing, I obey. I'm oddly curious about this. Dad's absent, probably at work.

"Now, as you know, you're going back to school on the twenty ninth. So we have just twenty six days left of the summer holidays."

"Just? The holidays just began! It was New Years not three days ago!"

She persers he lips. "Well it will go quickly." She snaps. "So what I want to talk to you about, you're social life."

"Or the lack there of" I mutter.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Nothing."

"Well, as I was saying, I think it isn't healthy for you to stay cooped up in your room. I was going to suggest you get out a bit. Or have some people over."

I cant believe what I'm hearing. "Really?"

She smiles. "Ya, really."

"Oh my God" I laugh. "Well, if that's the case, can I go to Steph's party tomorrow?"

She looks puzzled. "Who's Steph?"

"One of my friends."

"Last name?"

"Ridges."

Her face abruptly darkens. "Absolutely not!"

"What? Why?"

"It doesn't matter! The answer is NO!"

Yeesh. Talk about touchy. "Fine, can I go to the movies with Jason?"

"Jason as in that boy with the dark skin?" His sexy tanned skin…

"Yeah."

"No."

"Ok, why not?"

"Because he'll pressure you to do stuff!" She shifts uncomfortably.

"What the hell? We are just friends!" Although I wished otherwise. Besides, Jace is a gentleman.

"THE ANSWER IS NO, ANASTASIA!" She gets up and yells. Recovering her composure, she quietly suggests. "How about you go bowling with some of your older friends, like Susan or Delilah?"

To this I laugh. "Firstly, bowling? Seriously Mum? I'm not six. Secondly, Susan is a two faced bitch." Mum flinches. "And don't get me started on Delilah…" Urgh. Delilah Durnst is the daughter of my parents friends. Who, when I was six, tried to burn me with a candle. Still have the scar. But Mum and Dad think we are "BBFFs"!

"Cant I just do something with my real friends? You know, the ones I actually like?" I plead.

"I will not have my daughter hang out with some drunken, addicted, head banging freaks! You're more than that! You have a future-"

I don't hear the rest of her speech. I slam the door behind me with tears streaming down my face. How dare she? Those are my friends! Sure they may appear rough… but they are my friends. She has no right to speak thus.

I open my phone to make a phone call, punching in the numbers to my friend Steph's phone. But something's wrong. No dial tone.
What the hell? I frantically log onto my Optus account.

Your account has been disconnected.

Oh hell no. She did not do this. No no no no no no no.

I steal out of my room, and spy my mum on the computer, tears running down her face. She must've just done it then.

Anger boils inside of me.

This is the last straw. I grab my iPod, my wallet, my phone, just in case, and through some clothes together in my Country Road bag.

I'm leaving.

Description
¬¬¬¬Chapter 1

Fuck this shit. I flop onto the bed. Urgh, I hate this. I hate her. I hate him. I hate them all! Fight, fight, fight. I swear, that's all we do. Another screaming match here; in the one place in the world where it's supposed to be peaceful. If your home is where your heart is, then my heart's doomed.

Ha.

Ronnie Radke said something along those lines. I pump him up from my tiny black stereo in the corner of my room. These days, there are few things that calm me as much as he does. His melodies drown out the yelling I hear from the other end of the house, as well as in my head.

How does it feel, knowing you're buried inside?

I'll tell you. It doesn't feel good one bit. That's for sure.

Anyway; let me introduce myself. My name, for starters is Philippa Anne Zita Hehir. But I'll rip out your kneecaps and roast them in a stew if you mock me for that name, or call me it in its entirety without good reason. So to be on the safe side, call me Pip. Or Pippa. Nah; Pip.

Age? Fuck; one of the things I hate. Fifteen. Caught in between ten and twenty. Can't remember who said that, but they hit the nail right on the head. Not a kid, but not an adult. A decade and a half alive and you barely get to cross the road without having your hand held.

But that's partly my parents' fault. No scratch that, it is my parents' fault. If only they weren't so god-damned protective. Obsessive. I have no clue what their problem is. It's not as if they are treating me like they did my sisters.

Pah. My sisters. My fucking 'Perfect' Sisters. Generous Genevieve and Darling Dominica. I swear I can't go through a day without hearing Mum or Dad telling me how much harder I am to raise than they were. "We didn't have to explain ourselves to your sisters!" Uh, excuse me? You didn't because you couldn't be fucked. Or if you did, you couldn't bear the thought of being proven wrong.

Well, enough rant. I'm sure you're getting bored. But trust me. The story has barely begun.

So here I am, lying on my bed. Seething with anger. Today, as it was every other day, it was my computer usage. "We never talk to you… It's not healthy… You're not living in the real world" And all that jazz. Well Dr and Mrs Hehir, it's not as if you want to talk to me. You hate what I like. You don't give a damn about what I do unless it mars your image of a perfect world. I laugh at that. Oh the audacity! I hide behind my computer because I don't wanna have yet another fight. But like that's gonna happen.

I roll over. I just wanna escape this God awful town. Go do something actually worthwhile. Not studying random crap that will never help me in real life. Seriously, when am I ever gonna use An Analysis of the English Revolution? Not any time soon, if ever. I wanna be like one of those heroines in my books. Clary from The Mortal Instruments series. Usagi from Sailor Moon. Hell, I'll even settle for Elena from The Vampire Diaries. Yeah, I'm that desperate.

Hm… well maybe one of these days, I'll pluck up the courage to run away. Just go. I don't know where, maybe Tokyo. New York. Paris.

Just somewhere to get me out of this hell.

"You know what Mum? If I wanna wear frilly dresses with bows, I bloody well will!" I shouted. I know what you're thinking. Something along the lines of "What the fuck?" Hahahaha. Well I'll tell you what, despite my swearing and general angst at the world, I love the Japanese fashion movement known as Lolita. Google it. Its sorta mega awesome. But to Mum it's just another sign that I'm weird.

"I know you will, sweetheart. But not with my money!" She always starts off soft. Sweet. Yeah, whatever Mum. You're not fooling anyone.

"Are you listening to me one bit? I earned this money! I saved it! IT'S MINE! I can do whatever I bleeding want to with it! It's not as if I'm hiring hookers!" I retort.

I've been saving up for this super cute Innocent World dress. And it's been hard. Dad hates the idea that I get a job unless it's filing for him.

"Well that may be so, but you need to use a credit card to buy it. And do you have one? No! So stop asking!"

"Far out, you let Dominica use it!"

"Don't bring your sister into this." Dad finally says something from behind his paper.

"Why not? You never let me forget how much I don't live up to her and Genevieve's standards." I say bitterly, shoving my sweaty hands into my pocket. I always get sweaty palms when I get worked up like this.

Mum blinks up innocently, her voice reproachful. "That's not fair Philippa… You know we love you."

That's the last straw. I gotta get outta here before I say something truly awful. I walk out of the living room, and mutter at the door "Yeah, well, sometimes I doubt that."

God almighty have mercy. I can't live with these two. I sit on the bed so hard that I nearly bounce off. Stupid fucking bed. I look away at my tattered copy of Huckleberry Finn. I can see myself doing that. Running away on a raft down a river with a black guy. Make that a hot black guy and I'm all yours, baby.

You know what? Stuff this. I've got three hundred dollars in my pocket. I could do it. I could leave tonight. Just run. Turn around and go. To wherever the stars point me…

Imagining a happy future with no boarders… I fall asleep on the bed, my mascara marring the sheets as my tears slowly dry.

"And now you wish that you meant something… and now you wish that you meant something to somebody else…"

Fuck, I love 'Escape the Fate'. They're the perfect therapy for me. I can belt my lungs out or just let their beautiful lyrics and melodies roll over me. Right now, I'm just chilling in my room on the internet, Google-ing posters of them. Because my walls are currently looking very bare.

Mum and I got in another fight again today. It's sickening. I'm gonna be here, stuck in this hell hole for another three weeks. Then it's off to school. Now, don't get me wrong, school sucks. Particularlyboarding school. But hey, I've said it once, I'll say it again. I'm desperate.

Just as Craig Mabbit finishes his song with a smexy-scream-solo, my phone goes into a vibrating frenzy. I glance down at the caller I.D. Jason.

"Hello, Anastasia O'Hallaran speaking" I say with my sing song "phone" voice.

Jason replies in his cute little deep voice. "Hey Ana, its Jason." I smile. My ex- is adorable. I am kinda majorly head-over-heels in love with him. Well, as in love as a fifteen year old can be. I ruined our relationship by being too distant, a fact I regret. Right now I'm trying my best to win him back.

"I know." I giggle. Seriously? Giggling? Urgh, this kid brought out the worst in me.

I hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "Course you do. You know everything."

"Damn straight."

"Sure sure," he laughs. "So what's up?"

"The ceiling." I say with a smirk. I always answer that question like that.

He groans. "Still going strong with that one? Honestly Ana…"

We continue along this track for an hour and a half, letting the easy conversation flow. One of the great things about Jason, besides his sexy intelligence and common interests, is that I can just talk to him. No pressure, no awkward gaps, no lies.
It's the perfect therapy to my home life.
Just as we get onto the good stuff (discussing the evolution of manga from 1990-2010), Mum's shrill voice calls out.

"ANASTASIA ANNE O'HALLARAN! COME HERE NOW!"

I jump a mile high off the bed. "Shit, gotta run Jace. Mum. Love ya!" I say quickly and hang up. What is it this time? My good mood disappears like water through hands.

I stomp out to the living room where Mum is standing with her hands on her hips, her face fierce.

I groan.

This provokes a scowl from Mum. "Don't give me attitude, young lady."

"What? I didn't say anything!" I protest.

She sighs, and indicates the couch. "Sit."

Huffing, I obey. I'm oddly curious about this. Dad's absent, probably at work.

"Now, as you know, you're going back to school on the twenty ninth. So we have just twenty six days left of the summer holidays."

"Just? The holidays just began! It was New Years not three days ago!"

She persers he lips. "Well it will go quickly." She snaps. "So what I want to talk to you about, you're social life."

"Or the lack there of" I mutter.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Nothing."

"Well, as I was saying, I think it isn't healthy for you to stay cooped up in your room. I was going to suggest you get out a bit. Or have some people over."

I cant believe what I'm hearing. "Really?"

She smiles. "Ya, really."

"Oh my God" I laugh. "Well, if that's the case, can I go to Steph's party tomorrow?"

She looks puzzled. "Who's Steph?"

"One of my friends."

"Last name?"

"Ridges."

Her face abruptly darkens. "Absolutely not!"

"What? Why?"

"It doesn't matter! The answer is NO!"

Yeesh. Talk about touchy. "Fine, can I go to the movies with Jason?"

"Jason as in that boy with the dark skin?" His sexy tanned skin…

"Yeah."

"No."

"Ok, why not?"

"Because he'll pressure you to do stuff!" She shifts uncomfortably.

"What the hell? We are just friends!" Although I wished otherwise. Besides, Jace is a gentleman.

"THE ANSWER IS NO, ANASTASIA!" She gets up and yells. Recovering her composure, she quietly suggests. "How about you go bowling with some of your older friends, like Susan or Delilah?"

To this I laugh. "Firstly, bowling? Seriously Mum? I'm not six. Secondly, Susan is a two faced bitch." Mum flinches. "And don't get me started on Delilah…" Urgh. Delilah Durnst is the daughter of my parents friends. Who, when I was six, tried to burn me with a candle. Still have the scar. But Mum and Dad think we are "BBFFs"!

"Cant I just do something with my real friends? You know, the ones I actually like?" I plead.

"I will not have my daughter hang out with some drunken, addicted, head banging freaks! You're more than that! You have a future-"

I don't hear the rest of her speech. I slam the door behind me with tears streaming down my face. How dare she? Those are my friends! Sure they may appear rough… but they are my friends. She has no right to speak thus.

I open my phone to make a phone call, punching in the numbers to my friend Steph's phone. But something's wrong. No dial tone.
What the hell? I frantically log onto my Optus account.

Your account has been disconnected.

Oh hell no. She did not do this. No no no no no no no.

I steal out of my room, and spy my mum on the computer, tears running down her face. She must've just done it then.

Anger boils inside of me.

This is the last straw. I grab my iPod, my wallet, my phone, just in case, and through some clothes together in my Country Road bag.

I'm leaving.