*four years later*

I pulled up in front of my small, two bedroom white house. My boyfriend's Honda was parked neatly in the driveway, which is something I was hoping to avoid,but I'd stretched my shift at the vet's office as long as I could before the doctor told me to go home. This house sitting before me was not my home, it was my prison. The walls inside of it held all of my darkest secrets and the man in it was the cause of all of them. Each time I drove up to my house, I would think about Huntington Beach and the life I could have been living now. The guys had gotten famous, just had an album come out, probably were about to go on tour, living their dreams. Me? I was sitting in my car trying to muster up the courage to walk into my own house. About a year ago, I'd stopped answering their calls. Not by my choice..and my God I missed them so much. I wanted my home.

He'd started peeking from behind the curtains, probably wondering what I was doing. I exhaled, pushing all thoughts of HB and my friends out of my head the best that I could before stepping out of my car. The front door emanated the smell of cigarette smoke, making my stomach turn as I turned the key. There he sat on our couch, a lit smoke hanging from his lips and burned aluminum foil and a pipe on the table. At that moment, something in my head snapped.

"Where you been?" he asked me, his voice shaking.

"Work, Brad. Just work." I sighed, passing him and walking into the kitchen, which of course, hadn't been cleaned.

I could hear his steps coming up behind me as I ran the sink full of water to start on his accumulated pile of dishes. The air filled with negativity and disgust anytime he was close to me. His presence alone was enough to make my spine quiver.

"Why...why were you so late?" he inquired as he twitched and scratched at the underside of his chin as he always did when he'd smoked meth. Sometimes he shot up,but I'd recently stopped stealing him fresh syringes from work, so he made due with what he had.

His face was getting closer to the side of my head as I didn't answer. I kept my head lowered, my face looking down into the sink. I didn't care anymore.

I hissed as an open hand connected to the back of my head, knocking me forward slightly. "Bitch I said WHY were you so fucking late?"

My eyes began to water as I rubbed the back of my head. "Fuck you!" I screamed at him, quickly attempting to walk away.

His bony hand squeezed onto my bicep, digging his finger in as hard as he could. This was one way he tried to make me shut up and submit. "What did you say to me?" he yanked me over to him.

I chuckled, honestly not caring what kind of damage I was bringing upon myself. "I said fuck. You." This only angered him more., setting him off into a drug-fueled rage.

He grabbed me by the back of my hair,twisting his fingers up in it while yanking me out of the kitchen.All the while, I'm screaming to be released. He dragged me on the ground and I cried out even louder as my bare skin from my risen shirt scraped on the carpet.

"Let you go?" he giggled sinisterly before jerking my head up to look at him. "You're a stupid fucking bitch. I've had enough of you." he spits at me before punching me directly in my left eye. He released my hair as I hit the ground screaming in agony.

"You out getting fucked like the worthless goddamn whore you are?! Huh? Letting your boss fuck you with all the animals? Yeah, probably because you aren't any better than a fucking ANIMAL!" A sharp pain expelled from my gut as his foot connected to me, knocking the wind out of me.

"Stay the fuck down bitch." he said as he darted out of the room and pilfered through something.

His steps came up right beside of my face, which was still buried in the putrid, brown carpet. The cool, round metal of something pressed into the side of my aching head, immediately knowing it was his Colt.This was it, I was going to die.

"There's nothing stopping me from blowing your brains all over this house. And ya know what's funny? No one would give a shit." he laughed psychotically.

"Brad..please stop.." I coughed, gagging slightly on the bile he made rise from my stomach. He jammed the gun a little harder into my head, making me wince before pulling it away.

"You're fucking pathetic. Get up and clean this goddamn house." he walked away into the bedroom, probably to get more drugs from the hole in our mattress he didn't know I knew about.

I pulled myself to my feet, a giant knot forming where his foot has connected. He'd probably bruised a couple of ribs if not worse. The area around me was full of paraphernalia, hate, pain, and suffering and I couldn't do it to myself anymore. I was going to die like this if I didn't get away.As I listened to him lock the door, as he always did when he got things from his "secret" stash.

This was my chance, my only chance. I grabbed my car keys and swiftly, but quietly snuck out the front door holding my still-pounding stomach. The butterflies in my stomach began to rise as I hoped he didn't notice my escape before it was complete.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." I said to myself as I climbed into my car and started it, pulling out of the driveway. I saw him run onto the porch in my headlights as I turned the car onto the road and sped away.

What was I doing? I had nothing. I had no one. A million things ran through my head as I did the only thing I could do. I drove to the airport.

I sat in the parking lot for what seemed like years before dialing Matt, hoping to God above that he had the same number. Of course, he picked up on the second ring.

"Hey Matt? It's..it's Haze.." I began to choke up, "I'm coming home."

Notes

Hey guys! Often the chapter titles are songs that I feel are relevant to the chapter! I write to music so if it helps, I'm going to leave the title and artists for my chapter titles just in case anyone wants to do the same.