Not My Home

“This isn’t my home.  Do not leave me here.”  Michaela stopped at stomping her foot, but angrily crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

I sighed heavily, knowing she wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning.  I turned back toward the kitchen we shared to get her a glass of water and see if we had any food she would eat.  I didn’t know what she had had to drink before she came home or even if she had had any drugs while she had been out.  She probably didn’t even know what she had taken. 

She was usually more careful than this and I wondered if she had started seeing Gabriel again.  He was the source of all her problems and had come into her life when she had been at her lowest.  At the time, she was on the brink of flunking out of school and her boyfriend was threatening to break up with her.  Not that Samuel was much better than Gabriel. 

Before I could get Michaela a Gatorade and some ibuprofen, I heard the front door slam and I knew she was gone.  The question was should I call the police or her father.  Before I could do anything, the banging started.  And I knew it wasn’t Michaela.  The real problem was that whoever it was could not come in and I had no way to defend myself.  The real question was, how long would I make them wait.