When me and Patrick were growing up our mom was quite and didn't really care what we did. Our dad on the other hand was a volcano that was always active. He was so strict, especially to me. Ok so, Patrick had perfect grades, never did anything juvenile, he was "the perfect son" according to my dad. Now, when ever I did "bad" (failed a test, didn't do my homework, etc.) he'd say, "Why can't you be more like Patrick!". And whenever I did "good" (Aced a test, stayed out of trouble, etc.) he'd say, " Took you long enough." Whatever I did there was no impressing that man! Like when I was 16 I was in my "rebellious teenager" stage and Patrick didn't go through that so I was pretty much f*cked if I ever did anything. Anyway, when I was 16 I decided I was gonna cut and dye my hair even though my dad would flip. So I went out and got bright red hair dye at Hot Topic and walked to the other end of the mall, the hair salon.
"Hi. Can you give me a hair cut then dye my hair for me please?" I asked.
"No problem. How would you like it?" The lady asked ask I sat down in one of the cool hair salon chairs.
"Just above my shoulders, with bangs that angle towards the bottom end of my hair." I said.
"Ok, that's easy enough" she replied.
When she finished it was exactly what I wanted. I gave her the dye and she said I probably wouldn't be done till after 8 o'clock. Good, I thought, that'll get me home just before curfew.
When she'd finished I was getting out the money I owed and she said "Don't, it's on the house"
"Thanks!" I yelled half way out the door. 8:45. I've still got time. My curfew was 9 o'clock and if I was late my dad would flip out more than he already will when he sees my hair.

I ran home as fast as I could when it started raining, then poring, then (as I stepped under the awning) I could only see within a 2- foot radius. 9:01. Well I'm screwed. As I stepped inside I saw my dad.
"Where were you!" ,He yelled, "Why do you even have a curfew if you're not going to be home by then?!"
"Dad I tried! I was at the mall and took longer than I expected, I ran home in the rain to try and make it home in time!" I argued.
"Well why were you at the mall in the first place?!"
"I was getting this done!" I yelled. Taking my hood off.
His eyes got wide. " WHAT THE F*CK DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR!!!!" He yelled even louder.
"I dyed and cut it. Duh." I smirked.
"I won't stand for this!" He yelled.
"Then sit down." My smirk grew.
"That's it you're grounded go to your room. Right now!" His face was redder than my hair.
"Dad, I'm 16. It's my hair I should be able to do what I want with it!" I yelled back.
"As long as you're under my roof, you follow my rules!"
"I wasn't 'under your roof' I was at the mall!"
"Go upstairs!"
"No"
"Now!"
"You can't make me!"
*SLAM!* At first I was a bit confused till I realized what had happened. My dad slapped my face. Hard. I looked at him tears building up in my eye. I quickly turned away and ran upstairs crying. I was so surprised. Of all the things he'd done to punish me, nothing was ever physical.
When I got to my room i got my bag packed, locked my door and went out the window.