8

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
"How dare you run off like that!" my mother shouted. I was in the back seat and they were both in the front. It was the only saving grace for this whole situation. At least I had a little while before any beatings could start.
I didn't answer them, and instead, looked out the window, watching Manhattan fade away.
"What was your plan, huh?" my dad screamed. His driving was horrible, swerving every which way. It was obvious he was drunk...as usual.
I could've said my plan was to celebrate my birthday, or to live a single day free of abuse...but I stayed quiet. They'd view any response as retaliation, and it would only fuel their rage when we got home. 
I was comforted by the fact I had on Yunho's sweatshirt...at least when things got bad, I could look at it and remember that there'd been people willing to help me once, and there'd be people willing to help me again. I wouldn't have to suffer forever.
I could plan this time too...save up enough money to leave the area right away so there'd be no chance to find me or stumble upon me on some random street. What horrible luck I must have to have been caught so quickly. 
"When we get home, you're doing the laundry, the dishes, scrubbing the bathroom with your toothbrush, sweeping the floors..."
I tuned them out. The list would undoubtedly be too long and filled with superfluous tasks that I'd never get to because they'd beat me unconscious first. It always went like this whenever they were angry...though, usually, they didn't have a reason for it.
"Am I boring you?" my mother whipped around and smacked my head again. 
I hated it. I hated being touched. I hated being hit. I hated the look in her eyes that made me feel like scum for just existing. I hated feeling powerless and hopeless. And I hated that they took me away from my chance to do something more with my life than be their house servant. 
For once in my life...I hit her back. 
The look of shock on her face was priceless. She hadn't expected it. She looked completely stunned...but that soon turned to unadulterated rage. She crawled into the back seat, her ass hitting my father's arm in the process and making the car side-swipe someone parked on the street. Unsurprisingly, he didn't even leave a note and kept driving as if nothing happened. 
In the back, she grabbed fistfuls of my hair and slammed my face down onto her knee. I was pretty sure she'd broken my nose. I must've had blood streaming down my face because it was falling onto her jeans. I pushed her back against the door and tried to open it to fling her outside, but, of course, they had the child lock on. 
Instead, I slammed her against the glass, holding her there with my forearm on her neck as she gasped for air. Her face turned bright red as she reached out, scratching across scratches she had made just days ago.
But I wasn't someone who could kill...so I let her go. She choked on oxygen, struggling to sit up straight through her fits of coughing. When she finally turned to me, there was such spite in her face...so much evil. It made me even angrier that they'd told Yunho I was their daughter.