Falling Rain {Chapter 1}

It’s cold out and it’s winter.  I’m not even prepared to be out in this kind of weather. I have on a T-shirt with a black sweatshirt and a pair of jeans on. I have a duffle bag with me that contain all my clothes, my money, and a few of my personal belongings.  I was angry at myself for not bringing my coat with me. Who would be stupid enough to forget their coat in the middle of winter? I am. The little voice inside my head tells me to go back home and get my coat. No, I can’t go back home for my coat or for anything. If I did, then I would have to face my father and I’ll have hell to pay. He’ll make sure of it. And besides, I ran away from home and I never want to go back. I was running away from home, from life and as I write this, I still am a run away. I cannot go back home and face my father and his family.1

My father is probably looking for me now. He probably found the note I left in my room and all my clothes gone. I guess that he might be out in his truck, driving down every street in the city, looking for me. It’s been over an hour since I’ve run away and he still hasn’t found me. I ran and hid inside an old, abandoned building. Lucky for me, the lights in the building still work or else I wouldn’t be able to write in this diary. Writing is the only thing that I can do as of now. I must write so I can remember what happened the day before and so I can record what happened. 2

You’re probably wondering why I ran away. I ran away because of my father and his family. He has two more children other than me. I’m his fifteen year old daughter and his two other children that he had with his new wife Angela are younger than me. His wife hates me and the reason why is because I’m not her child. I have a different mother. My birth mother was named Sharice Anders while my father’s name is Vince Mötley.  She was just a teenager when her and my father were dating. When she was just turning eighteen years old and when he was twenty-four years old in 1982, I was born. In 1983, she walked out and left me with my father. They never married. I never met my real mother but I’ve seen her in pictures. She looks like a stripper or a slut. 3

Now that my father has two other kids and a new wife, he still loves me and I love him still but things aren’t the same anymore. We’ve been spending less time together and he’s spent more time with his other children who are supposed to be my half-brothers. I feel so left out and I talked to him about it once last year. He told me to stop being so selfish and that I can’t always have him to myself. I didn’t get along with Angela or with his sons. I feel like an outcast. 4

And about an hour and a half ago, I got into an argument with my father. The reason why we had this argument was because he was angry at me for not being polite to Angela. He was also angry at me for allegedly “setting a bad example” for his two sons. I ended up swearing at him and that ended up being the wrong thing to do because that resulted in him hitting me. Eventually, he said to me, 5

“Get the hell out of my house Nikki. All you do is cause me stress and problems. You’re being a trouble in school and now you’re being a trouble here. I don’t know any other way of getting you to stop causing trouble. Grounding you or hitting you doesn’t work so I don’t know what else to do with you. Just get the hell out. I don’t want you anymore.” 6

When he said that, I froze in my tracks. He sounded drunk so I knew that he didn’t mean what he said but his words hurt me so bad. The man who was my father and the man that I always looked up to even when he used to be a cocaine and herion addict in the 80s, hurt me in ways that no one else was able to. When he told me that he no longer wanted me, tears swelled up in my eyes and I began to cry. I tried not to but I did anyway. 7

Afterwards, I ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. That’s when I decided to run away and never come back. I put all my clothes, my money, and a few personal belongings of mine in my duffle bag. Ten minutes later, I walked down the stairs with my duffle bag and noticed that my father was passed out on the couch with a beer bottle on the floor near him. He had been drinking and he was a heavy drinker. He passed out within the first ten minutes when he got drunk. I had left a note on the closed bedroom door so if he went into my room, he would see the note. As I walked out of the house, I thought of a place to go and that place was the old abandoned building near downtown which is near where I live.8

I ended up going there.

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“Nikki!” I suddenly heard my father yell at the top of his lungs.  I looked out through the nearest broken window in the building in the front and saw my father’s truck parked outside near the building I was in. I made sure that I wasn’t seen. He was walking around outside, yelling out my name while being drunk. He had no shirt on but he wore his black leather jacket and his ripped jeans. His long black hair wasn’t put up and it didn’t look that messed up. 10

“Nikki, where are you?” He shouted. I was able to see through the window and saw how frantic he looked as he tried to search for me. He was about to enter the building I was in but he must’ve decided against it because he didn’t go in. Tears were in his eyes. He was crying and probably scared to death and it was because of me. 11

A few seconds later, he stopped a woman walking on the sidewalk. He pulled out a photo [a photo of me] and showed it to her. He then said to her, “Have you seen this girl? She’s my daughter and she’s fifteen years old.” 12

The woman took a look at the photo and told him no. He looked like he was going to break down and cry. “Please, she ran away from home and I searched practically half the city looking for her. I’m afraid that something bad might happen to her.” 13

“I haven’t seen her, sir. You should go to the police and let them know.” She said and then walked off. 14

All of a sudden, I saw my father cry out in public. Right then, I wanted to run out of the building and wrap my arms around him and go back home with him. I feel so horrible for doing this to my own father but I decided against going over to my father. He would have been so happy to see me again and he would be more than glad to take me back home but part of me is afraid of what he might do to me. I am a little afraid that he’ll punish me when we get home if he found me or if I went over to him. I am afraid of him taking off his belt that he has used on me once two months ago. 15

A few minutes went by until I saw my father get inside his truck and drive off. When he drove off, I cried so hard.

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For the past hour, I’ve spent the time in this building listening to the voice messages that my father left on my cell phone. There were about five of them. The first one was like this: 17

“Nikki, where are you? Please come back home. Just call me and I’ll come and get you. Look honey, I’m sorry for what I said to you. I’m so sorry so don’t do this to me. You’re scaring me to death. I know you have you’re cell phone so call me back right away.” 18

In that message, he sounded like he was going to cry. I cried listening to it. Ten minutes later, I listened to the last message. In the last message, he sounded very furious at me. This was what he said in the last message:19

“Nikki, if you don’t get your ass home right now, I swear to god that I’m going to beat your ass with my belt! This is the dumbest thing that you’ve ever done! Either you get home now or that’s it for you!” 20

He sounded drunk.

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I feel so tired and bored. I’m tired of listening to the voice messages and I’m running out of things to write in this diary for today. I have to go now. I think that I’m going to go sleep and then leave this place tomorrow.

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She was gone. I couldn’t believe that Nikki would run away. This was unlike her because she never ran away from home before. She didn’t have a reason to do so until today. It’s my fault that she ran away. I wish I never started that argument with her so she would still be here. I never should have hit her or told her I didn’t want her anymore. I do want her. She’s my one and only daughter. No one could ever replace her. I want to hold her in my arms again and tell her that I love her and how sorry I am. 23

When I found out she was gone, I went upstairs and saw a note taped to her closed bedroom door. The note stated that she ran away because she was no longer wanted and that I didn’t love her anymore. It also stated that she didn’t want to cause me anymore problems so she left and would never come back. After I finished reading the letter, I put on my leather jacket [didn’t bother to put on a shirt], grabbed my car keys, and drove off in my truck to look for my daughter. 24

I didn’t know where to look at first. The town wasn’t small and the city was very big so I didn’t know where to start. I took out my cell phone and called Nikki’s cell phone since I knew she had it with her. She didn’t answer her phone. When she didn’t answer, I threw the cell phone in the backseat. She wasn’t answering my calls. 25

I spent half an hour, driving up and down streets, getting out of my truck, searching for her and there was no sign of Nikki. I stopped random people, showing them a picture of her, asking them if they’d seen her. No one knew her and no one saw her. I became desperate and frantic to find her. I was terrified that something bad happened to her. I prayed that nothing would happen to her. 26

I eventually came to an area downtown which is close to where we lived at the time. I pulled up in front of an old, abandoned building. I got out and started walking around outside, looking in various stores and buildings, hoping to find Nikki. She wasn’t anywhere. 27

Soon, I stopped this young woman walking on the sidewalk. I pulled out the photo of my daughter and asked her if she has seen her around. The woman took a good look at the photo before saying no. I then said to her, 28

“Please, she ran away from home and I searched practically half the city looking for her. I’m afraid that something bad might happen to her.” 29

She just told me no again and told me to go talk to the police. She walked away. That’s when I started to cry. I didn’t care if I was out in public. Not only was I more than worried about my daughter but I was also angry and frustrated because I couldn’t find her. A few minutes later, I got back into my truck and drove home. 30

Once home, I sat around the living room with the phone in one hand. I tried calling her cell phone and she still didn’t answer. I ended up leaving five messages, the last one sounding threatening. I threatened her with the belt if she didn't come home. I didn’t care if it was threatening. I would do anything to get Nikki back home.

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For today and the next couple of days, I'm staying in this room at a motel in Los Angeles. I took a cab here hours ago. I couldn't stay in Van Nuys anymore incase my father decided to come looking for me again. 32

I feel so horrible. I can't imagine what my father is going through right now. He probably blames himself. That's funny because I blame myself for putting my father through this. And it is my fault. Part of me tells me to go home now but the other part of me tells me to stay where I am. What should I do? I don't know what to do...33

I listened to the last message that my father left me on my cell phone yesterday. He said that if I didn't get my ass home, he'd beat it with his thick, black leather belt. That was yesterday and well, today is the next day. He hasn't gotten the chance to whip me with his belt yet. Maybe I should go home so he can punish me. I deserve to be punished after what I put him through. Maybe if I go home now, it won't be so bad.

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I miss my father so much. I hate being so lonely. Anything would be better than this. Why did I even runaway? How am I even going to live on my own when I don't even have that much money left? 35

I just made the most dumbest mistake in my life. I wished that my father would call my cell. He probably will or maybe not.

 36

I waited around in this crappy motel room for my cell phone to ring. It never did. That's when I thought that my father hated me. If he hates me, I don't blame him because I hate myself. 37

I better get going now, diary. I don't have anything else to write in this notebook. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. Yeah right....

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