As soon as we made it into the front door of our home my father locked the door.

Fair warning to my readers the next part has no unicorns nor rainbows, in fact, has the farthest thing in the galaxy from it. So if you are not a fan of violent, gore or blood scene, I am sorry to say this but you choose the wrong Bloody book to read. Go and read fluffs if you are after a happy ending because this chapter has none.

"What the fuck Mysclaw you were meant to be inside her room with her, this never should have happened it's all your bloody fault,  you stupid bastard!" He said to me with angry face as he kicked me in the gut causing me to let out a violent cough.

"I am sorry." I said quietly from the wooden floor I was now trying to get up from.

"Your sorry, sorry doesn't bring Claudia back to life, you fucking spaz of a child." My father screamed at me as he punched me on my face. I could already feel a bruise forming.

"You fucking Murder, I am going to make your life fucking hell, your the reason Claudia is dead." Said my father as he got the rope we kept in the cupboard under the sink for when we go camping in the woods.

He tied my wrists and ankles together around one of the wooden support beams within our house. I struggled against him but to no prevail, I am just skinny defenceless stiles.

"Please, don't." I begged and wailed over and over again.

"Shut the bloody hell up, you stupid bitch." He yelled at me as he grabbed sock from the washing and shoved it in my mouth to act as a gag.

"You deserve this." He said as he got a knife from the kitchen and cut off my red hoodie and black shirt leaving my pale bare back exposed.

Tears fell from my eyes again, that hoodie was my most prized possession now it laid in ruins next to me. My back shrivels when the cold air hits it. I felt the cool stainless steels pointed tip press onto my back before my father started to carve into my back with it. I wanted to scream my little heart out because of the pure pain but the stupid sock prevented anyone hearing my pleas for help or for the pain to stop. I smelt the metallic smell of my blood as it trickled down my back like a waterfall of red.

Told you there would be no unicorns nor rainbows.

Soon the pain stopped and there was no more blade slicing into me. I looked over to my father to see he had passed out. I sigh in relief as I grabbed the bloody covered knife out of his hands and cut myself free. I grabbed my ruin hoodie and shirt and make my way upstairs to my room even though my body screamed in protest. I make it to my room and enter my private bathroom to make out words on my bloody mess of a back. MURDER. FUCK WIT. KILLER. WORTHLESS. MOTHERFUCKER. IDIOT. STUPID BLOODY FUCK. MONSTER.

I got a towel and wiped the blood off my back as I looked bandages in the first aid bag under the varsity sink. To my luck there where bandaged, I tried it around me as best as I could before I exited the bathroom and into my room where I pulled out my dark blue duffle bag and put in some clothes, my teddy bear 'MR cuddles', my tooth brush and tooth paste. I then throw in there my two Batman water bottles of course full of water, what I am 8 not stupid. I put the 1st aid kit in there from the bathroom in before I closed up my duffle bag and made my way to my mother's and father's room were I pulled out her sewing kit for the floor and stitches together my red hoodie as best as I could and I will admit it was the best sewing job in the world but hey at least I could wear it again. I put on my now fixed red hoodie and zipped it all the way up . I then made my way slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen to see my father still passed out on the floor, probably from exhaustion. I reach into the back pocket of his pants and grab out his wallet. It had about 975 dollars in it and his credit card. Lucky for me I know his pin but that is truly unlucky for him. I got to the kitchen cupboard and grab some crackers and some tinned spaghetti and shove them into my duffle bag with the credit card and the money before. I make way out of my childhood home for the very last time.

Yes I am a fucking eight year old who is running away from their grieving father with nothing but a duffle bag he whacked together with no destination and no plan. I know how this plans out... then again this is my story.

Look out world here I come.