I cowered in the corner as he went crazy, hurling the expensive champagne glasses Mom had bought way before I was born everywhere. He roared and growled as I tried to finish my homework, my hand shaking uncontrollably as I wrote the answers down.

          "I'M GONNA KILL SOMEONE!" he screamed, making me jump. I scrambled for some headphones and quickly put them on, playing some music. It didn't block out my father's destructive shouts but eased my tightened chest if only a little. I continued doing my homework.

          All of a sudden, he yanked off my headphones and the next thing I heard was ringing in my ears. I yelped as glass shattered everywhere around me like a deadly halo. My head spun as he took big steps toward me.

          Don't cry, don't cry, I chanted to myself. Crying is a sign of weakness. Don't cry.

          My father yanked me up by the collar of my t-shirt and smashed a champagne glass on my head, and I shrieked in pain. Red trickles of blood dripped down my face, clouding my eyes. It tasted metallic as it slid down my cheeks and onto my tongue. Tiny shards of glass pierced my arms, my legs, my hands. My father, paying no mind, stormed off into the living room again.

          My head smothered in blood, I fumbled for my phone and dialed Valerie's number. I could barely unlock my phone, my hands were trembling that much. She picked up and I whispered, "Caged." The phone went silent. I rested my head back against the white wall, smearing it with blood. Then, I picked myself up and limped outside as soon as I heard three honks - one long, two short.

          Val burst out of the car as I hobbled onto the driveway, holding my arms and cupping my face. My best friend let out a sob, walked me to her black Jeep, and helped me in.

          "Ohmygosh, ohmygosh," she muttered, getting into the driver's seat. "Sky, you can't keep living like this! We gotta do something!"

          "He'll really kill me if I do that," I replied hoarsely. A crease appeared between Val's eyebrows, the crease that's always there when she's arguing at a debate tournament with fierce intensity. But this isn't something to be debated about.

          "But-"

          "Would you rather have my dead body?"

          Val went silent, and for the first time since we were six and I'd pushed her off the swing by accident, big fat tears welled up in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Shaking her head sadly, she held my hand in hers with a surprising gentleness. Val wasn't exactly known for being kind and innocent.

          "I can't let you do this anymore, Sky. Please."

          And with that, she started the Jeep and I slowly sank into a dark, peaceful oblivion, the delicate piano melody bridging the deafening silence between us.