Never Underestimate A Girl

"It's over and done with, Mum. Get over it." I say, walking through the kitchen, trying to get upstairs to my room. "I don't give a damn if it's over, Jo, because it sure as hell isn't done with." She says, putting her arm up against the door frame so I couldn't leave. "It's not even that big of a deal! Why do you have to be so over dramatic about every damn thing?" I shout at her, our faces a few inches apart.

"Because, this happened too many times in the last year for me to ignore it. And I will not stand it any longer. You understand me?" She asks, giving me a stern look.

" You can't control my life anymore, Mum! I'm 17. Stop telling me what to do!" I yell as I push past her and run up the stairs. "I can tell you to do whatever as much as I please. I am your mother, and until you're living under your own roof, you will live by my rules!" She shouts after me.

"Then maybe I shouldn't be living under your roof anymore!" I say, turning around to look at her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she challenges me. "Maybe you shouldn't." "Fine." I say.

"Get out. Get your bags and get out. And don't even think of coming back." She says with malice, turning around and walking back to the kitchen. Rolling my eyes, I walk the rest of the way to my room, slamming the door shut. I walk over to my closet, pulling out my backpack and throwing it on my bed.

Hangers are thrown around the room and drawers are opened as I get all of my important things. I find the box of money I have been hiding underneath my floorboards that holds about a thousand dollars in it. Not much, but enough for me to get food. And maybe a hotel for a few days.

I pack my stuff as quickly as I can, running back downstairs within an hour. Slipping my converses on, I walk out the front door without another word, slamming it loudly behind me, then walking down the street.

Anyways, I'm Johanna Berns. But I go by Jo. You may call me Johanna if you want to, but it might be the last thing you'll ever say. And I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course. Not. At 17, I'm already a runaway and soon-to-be drop out. I just had to get away from my physco mother who's always trying to model me into the perfect daughter that she always wanted me to be. Well, I don't get good grades, I eat pizza all the time, parties and and alcohol are my thing, and I don't really have patience for anything. So I guess my mother's dream didn't really work out.

My father left me when I was little. I choose to try and forget that happened, even though it invades my mind every time I look at my mother. Right now, I have no idea where I'm going and what I'm doing, but that's the joy in it. Figuring it out along the way. And maybe, just maybe.....I can live the life I've always wanted.

Notes

Okay, here's the prologue.