I walked through that house again and my immediate thought was that I needed to get the hell out of there. The house that I grew up in. Where I laughed, cried, and played with my family. The house where my mom was once living. The house that used to be my safe haven. I walked through the basement and came across the room my father put me in when he was remarried. I saw the holes in the door where the alarm once was. I saw the window that I looked out of trying to get some light. I saw the counter my head was smashed on. I saw the closests that I hid in. I saw the walls that I helped paint, and the vents that I had to clean. The bathroom that made my hands raw and bare. The laundry room where I had to do eveyones laundry. The food pantry where I would try and steal food for my sister. I saw all the memories flooding back. But I also saw some good things. The kitchen were we had water fights with mom. The bathroom where my mom found me standing in the toilet when I was little. The basement where my brothers would hide out. The play room with the great forts my brother made me. The laundry room where my mother scrap booked. The house where we had all the parties. The yard where we played and had pine cone wars. The stair case where our pictures were. The music room where I learned how to play the piano. The closets where I hung up my back to school clothing. The living room where we watched movies and cuddled. That house meant so much to me but the memories there are now ruined. And eventually I will make a safe haven for MY children. And when they come back to visit they will only have good memories there. They won't have to wonder what went wrong. Or why that happened to them. They will be loved unconditionally.