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BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Grooooan. I open my eyes warily and blink back the blurriness in my vision. I look to my right and slap the snooze button. The red digital numbers read "3:45". The red dot was on "AM". I sighed and rubbed both my hands down my face. I heard my father stomp up the stairs to my attic room. "Y/N! Get your ass down here or you get no breakfast!" I shout back, "Okay!" 'It's almost like eating nothing...' I quickly slip out of bed and slide my feet into my slippers. As I lightly jog, I bend down and grab my hair tie off of the floor. I open the creaky brown door, the handle rusting and paint peeling. The steps squeak as I thunder down them, through the hallway, and into the kitchen. My dad glared at me. He walked over to me and slapped my face. At this point, I don't even flinch. "You're almost late. No jam, butter, or peanut butter for you. Be faster next time." I sat down at our two-seater small, circular table without a word. I was glad I got slippers last year. Our stone floor was always cold, even during the summer. My dad put a slice of bread in the toaster and pulled down the lever. He put his hands on the edge of the counter and stood silently. My toast popped up a few minutes later. He put the slice in a paper towel and put it on the table in front of me. It was burnt, as per usual. I quickly ate it. My taste buds had gotten used to the nasty food I got fed. I had a tongue and stomach of iron. I stood up out of my chair and headed to the laundry room. I pulled out my clothes out of the dryer and pulled off my dirty pajamas and put them in the basket next to the washer. I put on my underwear and bra, then put on my jeans and f/c shirt. As I walk out of the laundry room, I see my dad already left. This was routine, every week. I walk to the bathroom and flip on the light. I open the drawer and take out my brush and other hair styling stuff to take care of my mane. I brush my teeth and slip on my shoes, which I always leave in the bathroom for routine's sake. When I finish, I stare into the mirror. 'Why am I still doing this? What is the point of making a plan if I'm never going to execute it? I always promise myself that today will be the day. Today I'll kill him. But I never do...why?' I rub my hand across the now red mark on my face. 'I will today though, for sure. No one will suspect he's dead until Thursday or Friday of next week. Today's Friday and he'll be rotting over the weekend. His company knows he skips work sometimes, but they don't fire him. It will work out alright. I'll have enough time to get away.'

{Timeskip brought to you by Jay being a detective. And failing at being sneaky.}

It was cold as I waited outside my high school. It was late October, close to my birthday. I was lucky enough to be born on Halloween. It's definitely my favorite holiday. Plus I get to sneak out to people's parties and get drunk. Ah, best time of the year. Except for now. I'll be having anniversaries and celebrating every year. Today will be my new favorite day. The day I officially killed my dad. Of course, I was ripped out of my own little world by the bell ringing. 'Shit! I've got five minutes!' I ran inside, the doors mechanically held open until the last bell. Luckily, we could carry our bags around and keep our jackets on (not that I actually had any, of course). What I was more worried about was that my homeroom was on the third floor. Thank bejeebus I was in shape. I pounded my way up the stairs. As I reach the third floor: DING. 'Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit!' DONG. The tip of my shoe caught on the floor and I fell on my hands. DING.I sprung back up and sprinted and my hand on the knob. DON- I pushed open the door and planted both my feet inside the classroom. -G. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. My teacher looked up and said snarkly, "Y/N. Almost always fashionably late. Take your seat." I turned around to head to the back of the class, where my desk was located, and rolled my eyes. I sat down and laid my head in my hands. My teacher only treated me like this because I already knew the material. That happens when your an overachiever. Or, at least, seem like one. In truth, my father pushed me until midnight doing homework, whether I was assigned it or not. I had top grades, a 4.0. Yet I still got in trouble for minor things such as, swearing or running in the halls. Like I actually cared. I just wanted to get through all eight hours of school. Especially today. Today, I was itching to get home. I wanted to complete my goal and escape. Even narrowly, I didn't care. As long as I got away, nothing mattered.

{Another timeskip brought to you by Jeff and BEN. Dick and sidedick.}

The walk home was short, maybe ten to fifteen minutes. My dad wouldn't usually be home for another hour. The analog clock in the kitchen read "4:15". But today was Friday. He was at a bar not too far from here. He would come home drunk, always. He would take another hour than normal. Of course, sometimes he would have me pour him some of the old whiskey he kept in a cooler. I knew today would be one of those days. I just knew. For now I would get everything ready. Pretend I'm making dinner like usual. It wouldn't be suspicious if I had a knife out then. Then again, nothing is suspicious to him when he's drunk. Time to prepare.

{Last timeskip, because you want the action, don't you? Believe me, you'll get it.}

Finally, the front door slammed open and my dad stumbled in. Drunk. 'Told you so.' (I thought to no one in particular, and am possibly breaking the fourth wall). My dad slurred out, "Heeey sweetie~ What's cookin'?~" I kept my disgust in check and smiled. 'Today will be the last day you'll have to deal with this douche. Control is key.' I pointed my knife at the beef on the cutting board. Then I pointed it at the bag of (probably freezer burned) veggies. "I'm making stir-fry for you." The 'for you' caught his attention the most. He chuckled. "That's my good little bitch~ You might get a special treat tonight~" My smile tightened, not that he noticed. "Of course...daddy." I internally shuddered at my words. It would be the last time I would ever utter them again. "Say,...I have a surprise for you in the oven. Do you want to see it?" There was no apprehension in his face or confusion as he responded with a "Sure thing~". He opened the oven and bent his neck exposing the very spot I needed. "Wait a seconnnd-" was as far as he got before I hit him on the the back of the neck with the hilt of the knife and knocked him out. He hadn't noticed that the oven wasn't even on. Dumbass. I dragged his limp body to his room and grabbed the rope I had been collecting for a while and bound his body to his bed. I blindfolded him as well. It only took him another hour to wake up. "Wha?...Wha the hellll?..." He struggled as best he could against my tight bindings. "Why you lil' bitch! Imma get you fur this!" He shouted. His speech was bad, he was still drunk.'Good.' I chuckled darkly. "Oh my~. Seems the wolf is in quite the predicament here..." I was already twitching from excitement, anger, and of course, insanity. All reasoning was gone. What was left in its place were hate, insanity, and anger. With a seasoning of snarkiness and sarcasm of course. Where would the fun be without it? "Y/N...untie me right now...or you'll be sorry!" He tried coercion, persuasion, bribing, and pleading. I ignored all. I laughed insanely and heard his whimper of fear. It made me grin impishly. "You really think that'd stop me? Make me regret what I'm doing? FUCKING BULLSHIT! I'L MAKE YOU PAY FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE! TO ME AND MOM! I'LL TORTURE YOU UNTIL YOU FEEL THE PAIN YOU MADE US SUFFER THROUGH! SHE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!" My screaming came to an end with me literally quaking in anger. My blade came down on his skin in lashes. I started with his arms and legs. I then moved on to stripping him down to his boxers and slicing everywhere else. By now, he was barely conscious. He had marks everywhere. I didn't hold back. My grin stretched so far, I felt like the Cheshire Cat. I grabbed the whiskey from the cooler in his room and poured it on him. He shrieked in pain. That definitely got him out of his stupor. I leaned down to his shaking form and whispered in his ear, "Go to hell and never come back." He fainted and I chuckled. I got an idea. A really great idea. I cut off his penis and stuck it in his mouth. I also cut off both his middle fingers and shoved them up his ass. No response. I sighed, disappointed. I got up and searched the house, grabbing money, food and water. I shoved them in the hikers backpack I had already packed my clothes in. The sleeping bag was already rolled up and secured. I grabbed an extra set of clothes from the laundry room (the ones I were wearing were covered in blood), and changed. I shoved the blood soaked ones in the washer and put it in there for a long time. Hours, pretty much. I had already left the note in the school's office excusing me for next week. I scrubbed my hands under the sink until they were raw. I stuck my head under the bath faucet and soaked it. I scrubbed soap into it until no evidence was left. I washed out my hair and turned off the water. I dried and brushed my hair until it looked like nothing happened. Smiling, sanity mostly back by now, I ran to the kitchen and ate the last thing left. The stir-fry I actually now made. For me. I grabbed two cigarette lighters after I finished and cleaned up after myself. I put one in my bag and kept the other in my hand. I ran back into my dad's room, where the delicious smell of blood greeted me. I wanted to make sure everything was in order. I turned on his bedroom light to deter burglars before exiting. I opened the screen door and closed the front door and locked it. The screen door shut behind me as I approached my dad's old Ford Escort and pryed off the front and back license plates. I threw them in the garbage bins outside the house and casually walked back to the car. I opened the driver's side and sat in the front seat. He always left the door unlocked and keys in the ignition. I had passed my drivers test and gotten my license, but that dickwad never got me a car. I used to drive it back when I never slept. I figured three hours of sleep was like none, so I took none. That was when I was fifteen. I'm seventeen now. Three days from now I'll be eighteen. And legally free. Right now, I'm going to be illegally free. Thankfully there aren't cops around this late at night. This town is so sleepy and boring. Everyone (thinks that they do) know each other and there are no secrets. We even have a local legend that in our park there lives a tall, faceless man in a suit. And that's where I'm headed. Rosswood Park.