She sat at the end of her bed distracted by the stain on the otherwise spotless carpet. She had tried ignoring it, but it was no use. Her mother had attempted to scrub the carpet clean a number of times and had brought home various stain removers from the supermarket, but nothing would shift it. If anything, the stain had spread with each of her mother’s attempts to remove it. Gradually turning from a spatter of the deepest red into a swirl of pink smears chasing after each other.

She wondered how much longer the carpet would remain before a pair of fitters arrived from the local flooring centre to replace it, probably with an identical roll that would continue to match the carpeting throughout the rest of the house. Maybe her mother would surprise her and order a darker colour this time, so the evidence of her father’s temper could be more easily disguised. Her mother might even break her rules and opt for vinyl wood flooring, so any future instances could simply be wiped away with a sheet of kitchen towel.

She stood up slowly, careful not to disturb any of the bruises that still decorated her skin and dressed quickly. She eased the cheap black tights from the local chemist up her legs, before stepping into the denim skirt and pulling on the jumper she had managed to find in the local charity shop. She had a lot of expensive clothes hanging in her wardrobe, but she couldn’t stand to wear them any longer. They belonged to her parents. Everything in her room was either bought by them or with their money and she wanted to be free of all of it.

The credit card and phone that her father paid for every month were huddled together on top of her bed, along with the note she had written. It didn’t contain any of her reasons for leaving, just a plea for her mother to find the courage to escape him as well. Without her in the house her father’s temper would have to be satisfied in some other way. She glanced around her bedroom and at the lie she had been living for so long, before pushing down on the door handle. She tensed as the usual click of the latch sounded so much louder in the early morning.

She studied the closed door leading to her parents’ bedroom as she made her way downstairs, taking each step slowly, careful to avoid the creaking floorboards. At the bottom, she waited for the sound of muffled voices or footsteps above her, but the house remained completely still. She didn’t hesitate, rushing through the living room and kitchen towards the back of the house. She only stopped to slip her trainers on, before unlocking the door and stepping outside.

It had been raining all night and the dampness was clinging to the morning. She didn’t care. She followed the garden path towards the gate, stepping over the broken tiles, and unlatched it.