A young girl stormed down the single flight of stairs. She was in more rage than a pissed off bull at a rodeo, change that, two pissed off bulls at a rodeo. She smashed her fist into the thin plaster of the wall, causing plenty of dust and debris to entangle into her clover honey colored locks. She could already be mistaken for a boy because of what HE did to her hair and her unreliable, nonexistent curves. Though, that didn’t mean that she didn’t know how to stand up for herself.

              “Rubi, come back, I didn’t mean it this time, I swear,” a pleading voice begged from behind the banister of the stairs. Rubi’s glare at the surrounding area of the voice was cold enough to begin another ice age. Rubi shook her head and huffed, going downstairs to the kitchen. As she stepped into the pearly white of the kitchen, a thought crossed her mind. She grinned when a warm liquid began to run down her arm.

                Rubi swung her arm around as if she was holding an axe and she was a random axe murderer. Blood flung from her skin and onto the stainless white walls, floor, and appliances. She hoped it stained and would never come out. Her wild green eyes watched around the corner of the hall, waiting for him to chase after her.

              She let herself slide against the wall, worn out from the constant fighting. It was the middle of the night and she had nowhere else to go. Every day was a cycle. Everything would be fine but, then he would suddenly explode and Rubi would be caught in the crossfire. Then, he would claim that he didn’t mean to do it and he wouldn’t do it again, even though she was where he would take out all of his pent up anger.

               She let out a single shaky breath. It was now or never. She did the only thing she could do, making sure she slammed the door behind her. It wasn’t the brightest idea, leaving with only the clothes on her back, the few singles she held in her wallet, and a key to the house. Though, she did leave her spare on the kitchen table.