The fighting had been worse than normal. Both, her mom and dad, had been taking their anger out on her. Usually, it was just her dad. They finally told her to go to bed. Running into her room, Gracia immediatley pushed her huge, heavy, antique dresser in front of her door. That way they couldn't get in when the fighting started again. Looking in her mirror, Gracia could see the blood in her hair. It was dripping down her face. The rest of her looked just as bad. She was covered in blood and bruises. Some of the cuts would scar. This she knew from expierence. She also knew her left wrist and at least two ribs were broken. With a sad chuckle, Gracia thought to herself,
' I could be a doctor by now.' It was sad that a child of sixteen knew enough about broken bones that she didn't even need to go to a doctor to set them. Ripping an old tee shirt into strips, she set her wrist, then wrapped it tight. Hopefully it would heal right. Not bothering with anything else, she laid on her little cot and fell asleep.

Fog drifted across the ground like a thick blanket. The night was chilly, but the girl sitting on the bench, didn't seem to notice. She just wanted her pain to stop. Not knowing what to do, she just sat there and cried. Praying to God had done her no good. She had been praying to Him as long as she could remember. Maybe she was the monster her mom said she was. Maybe she was the piece of shit her dad said she was. Maybe that's why God hadn't answered her prayers. After all, her parents hated her. They only kept her around for the welfare checks. They told her all her life that she wasn't good for anything. They told her she was Satan's child. Of course! Why would God answer the prayers of Satan's spawn, as her mom called her? She was still crying as she prayed to Satan, begging for help. Immediately, her pain wasn't so bad. She also felt warm, as if someone had wrapped her in a coat. Anyone walking by at that moment would have been scared to death. Unknown to the girl, there was a fallen angel standing behind her with his huge, black wings wrapped around her.

Gracia jumped awake, looking around her. Something was wrong! She couldn't figure out what it was though. Listening by her door, she could still hear her parents fighting, so that wasn't it. Glancing at her mirror while moving back to her cot, she stopped. Moving back so she could look at her reflection, she froze. That's what was wrong! All her bruises and cuts were gone! She felt no pain! Carefully touching her face, she realised that this was the first time in years she hadn't felt any pain! Pushing on her side didn't hurt either! Unwrapping her wrist, she bent it. Nothing. No pain. Not even a little bit. Sitting on the floor, she tried to figure out what to do. The only thought in her head was,
' Run! Run while you can!' Grabbing her backpack, she shoved everything she owned in it. A pair of jeans, not including the ones she had on, two tee shirts, her journal, a pen, and her black leather boots her parents didn't know she had. Looking around, she saw her brush and stuck that in the pocket of her jean jacket. Slipping on the jacket, she picked up her backpack, zipped it shut, and moved to her window. Opening it, she climbed out, and ran. Not once did she look back. Not once did she even want to. As far as she was concerned, Gracia and everything about her was dead. Now, in her place, was a girl full of anger. Anger and hate, but happy because she was on her own and no one would ever hurt her again!