Abby's smile only widened as Mathew insisted she stop leaning so close to him because 'he was still a man'. Which means she was succeeding in pushing his buttons again. Shrugging when he insisted she had no idea what he was capable of, she thought differently. After all, Abby did find his breaking point back in that janitors closet. Surprise flitted over her features as he slammed the lid of the first-aid kit shut, looking at the kit for a moment then back up at him. "But..." she started to argue with him, but he had already beat her to the 'don't argue'.<br/><br/>Sighing heavily, she gave a nod and pushed herself up off the couch with some effort. Shuffling over to the stairs, Abby took in a deep breath and started the long trek up to her bedroom. Once she got there, she was all out of breath and it took her a good two or three minutes before she got to work. Grabbing her red duffle bag and tossing a few pairs of clothes in, she checked around to make sure she had everything she would want to bring. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw her sketchbook and quickly grabbed it. It was extremely important to her, almost more important than her life. Taking a seat on the edge of her bed as she flipped through it, she saw sketches she had done of her mother and even her father back when he wasn't this way. Back when they were all a big happy family. The last sketch was the most recent, the one she had drawn this morning. Of Matthew, and it was so perfect it literally almost looked real, like a photo.<br/><br/>Abby's father's bed sheets were stained almost from head to toe in blood. So were his pillows and the top half of his large comforter. His room was a huge mess, like a tornado had been through there. The weapon he had used to beat Abby senseless was lying on the floor next to his bed, the sharp end covered with blood. There had been so much of it that a small pool of blood had collected beneath the top part of the fire poker.<br/><br/>Closing the sketchbook, Abby sighed heavily and brushed her hand over the cover. Stuffing it into the side pocket of her duffle bag, she counted to three before throwing it over her shoulder. Wincing and holding her side as she struggled back to the staircase. Taking it really easy going down the staircase, she stopped at her father's bedroom door and looked at Matthew. "You know, you don't have to clean that if you don't want to. I can do it whenever I get back from wherever you're taking me. But im 18, so you know, if you're taking me to some kind of kid's shelter forget about it," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. While she was upstairs she had cleaned up a little bit and started to look more like Abby now, just with a huge gash and a few bruises. She had dressed in faded blue jeans that had no knees, a red tank top and her old sneakers from yesterday. Her hair was neater now and she had gotten the blood out of it.<br/><br/>Turning, Abby walked over to the front door and opened it wide. Sitting down her front porch steps, she waited for Matthew to decide what he was going to do. Shaking her head and muttering under her breath, Abby let go of her duffle bag and walked back inside. "My dad is going to kill me for leaving like this," she whispered to herself. As Matthew stepped out her father's bedroom, she stopped in front of him and didn't give herself a second chance to re-think. Hopping up on her tip toes, Abby pressed her lips to Matthew's and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Finishing what he had started the day before. Then she simply stepped back and proceeded to the front door. "We never finished that kiss. So you cant really call that one from yesterday a real kiss," she threw over her shoulder as she stepped back outside, waiting once again on the front porch.