"It was your fault!" My dad yelled, his fists clenched. "You sent her there!" I shivered, wrapping a thin blanket around my shoulders. "How is it?" I whispered, starring at the absent flames in the fireplace.
"Eh?" He mimicked callously. "What'd you say, Peyton!"
"Nothing. What's it to you, anyway?" I gambled. If he was in a bad mood, which was consistent, I would be struck by his malicious fist. "Get to your room, you little beast!" He screamed. I shrieked as he yanked my hair, tugging a handful of my from my scalp. "That hurt!" I screeched, thumping his solid chest. He took my wrist, flinging me through the door and into the hall. In my hasten to get away, I tripped, leaving me sprawled on the floor. "You look pathetic, Peyton. And, it is your fault. Your Mother never liked you, even less now." He slurred, face to face. I could smell alcohol on his breath. "Well, even if she didn't like me, I know she loved me!" I fought back, squirming from his clutch. I slammed and locked the door of my room, although I was unsure whether he'd break it down or not. I lay down, veiling my frail body with the fine blanket and fretting for my safety, and more importantly, grieving for Mother.
As dawn broke, I packed my bag. I put the stale slices of bread in a translucent bag, before shoving them to the bottom of my bag and resting school books and folders on top of it.
As I hurried to the bus stop, I caught Violet's eyes. "Hey!" She called, waving. "Peyton!" I waved to her, running to her. "Are you okay?" She cried. I shook my head, and received a rather large hug. "Tell them." "Who?" I sighed. "Who will listen? No one will, not a soul, apart from you." We sprinted after the departing bus. "You girls should really shouldn't wait around, you know?" He huffed. "Make us late." Violet scowled at him, but I took no notice. "We shouldn't let him do that!" Violet fought against me pushing her gently through the aisle to a free seat. Before I arrived, though, I fell to the floor. "Oops!" Jordan laughed spitefully. I felt like swearing at her. Swear words were one of the things I knew many of. I had heard them on numerous occasions, being said to me, Mother, partners fighting next door.
The bus drove down an unusual lane. "Where are we going?" Chorused the students on the bus.
"A road is closed." Mr. Bus-Driver replied icily. They were soon to find out he was lying through his gritted teeth.