Chapter 1: Leave
I knew what home was from the time I was little. Home wasn't a haven. To me, it was a door that could never be shut. Inside was nothing but oppression. As far back as I can remember, there was never any peace at home. My father drank too much, and the sound of him arguing with my mother rang through the house all the time. Whenever night fell and all was quiet, I would lie in bed listening to those arguments, feeling like I couldn't breathe. Later, I realized those were the deepest memories of my childhood. No matter how much alcohol my father brought home on his breath, there was never any real warmth in the house. I don't remember when my father started drinking, and I don't remember when my mother grew silent. There was
