The day was arriving as slow as old Uncle Frank’s car drove. Today was my first day of freedom after eight-teen years of being in the prison that was called Home; a home where anybody sane could be driven to insanity. My prison wasn’t always so bad, when I was a kid, my father was alive and my mother was a person I could count on. But when I hit seven on the nose, my father died from the cancer that was eating him for the past 5 years. And soon after -2 months after- my mother moved on to the next man and his name was Chris. Chris became my step-father as quick as my mom forgot my father or acted like she didn’t think about him anymore. I took my raincoat since Miss Grady –the news woman- had said it was going to have heavy showers. Personally, I liked the rain. It made everything fresh and it would always give me a feeling that the next day might be a fresh new day, but that wasn’t the case… ever. One minute left until I hit the age of freedom and I could already feel the freedom under my skin or maybe that was my nerves, maybe I was just scared that they wouldn’t let me leave and Chris would beat on me like the other times I wanted to leave. No, I was eight-teen now and I didn’t need his permission or my mothers. My mother stayed with him after all the beatings, the cheating, after hurting ME, she decided she wanted to live with a devil, but didn’t ask if I wanted also. I looked at my watch turn to midnight. I was finally eight-teen and I was finally leaving for good. No cops could bring me back to this hell hole and nobody was going to stop me from leaving it either. I walked my head held high, listening to them bickering in the kitchen, this was might shot at leaving without having to fight my way out. I had left my mother a note on my nightstand telling her everything, even though she already knew how I felt but I thought it would be fair to tell her one last time I love you before never seeing her again. It was hard for me to tell her I loved her face to face, she had become like a wall, but in a letter I could express myself and know she would feel something by reading it; at least I hoped she would. I reached the front door, my bag on my back and money in my pocket and looked at my mother for one last time. She looked like what she looked like every day, her hands were flying in the air while she’d scream at Chris for drinking too much and her eyes getting big and red like blood oranges. I said goodbye and left the house, nobody was following me and I knew right there and then, I was free. I started walking East, I had looked at maps of towns that were close by and had found a train station where they could bring me South of California to see my grandmother and some of my old friends. I had an old buddy that had bought an apartment building thinking it was going to get costumers but never did – since it was pretty old and most of the right side was falling apart – so I knew where I could stay without paying a high price or any price at all. I got to the station earlier then I thought and found myself in front of a locked door. The bus station was closed for the week, which wasn’t written in the newspaper since our towns newspaper had every little detail of any important or unimportant thing you can think about. The bus station being closed was one of the few things it would most likely have on the front page, but it hadn’t even been mentioned. I had a routine of reading the paper every morning with a cup of French vanilla coffee at a little restaurant down my street and I would do that to get my head on something more interesting than my stepdad beating me or my mom lying to the neighbours that she had a fantastic husband. I looked at the sign and then looked around for an area to sleep, it wasn’t like I was going to go back home, I had done the first step and now was the time for me to do the others. I saw a men’s bathroom sign and went inside. I went in the last stall – the handicap one which was always bigger in size – and laid down to sleep until the next morning.