🎧 You Don't Own Me - Joan Jett

SAN FERNANDO VALLEY SUBURBS, OCTOBER 20, 1975

The TV was still on, but no one was watching. The smell of dinner still lingered in the air, but the table had been abandoned in a hurry—half-eaten food, silverware crooked and scattered. The tension in the living room was thick, like smoke.

You only caught the last words your father screamed at you—his voice sharp with rage—before you swung the front door open and bolted into the rainy night.

You weren’t exactly a rebellious girl. You rarely acted on impulse. In fact, you were pretty well-behaved—good grades, good friends—but everything felt the same, like you were stuck in a loop.

This wasn’t the first time you fought with your father like this. In fact, it was the fifth time that week. The reason? Always the same—his drinking.

You’d endured it almost the entire week: the smell, the words, the way he changed. But tonight, something snapped. And for the first time, you ran without looking back.

No direction, no money, completely soaked from the rain—you had no idea where to go. Who in their right mind would be awake at this hour? Then one person popped into your head. The problem was... you two were nothing alike. And honestly? You didn’t even get along that well.

And yet, here you were—standing at the door of none other than Joan Jett. Yes, that Joan Jett. The punk girl from your old school. You knocked fast, desperate, shaky.

“What the hell—” Joan froze mid-sentence as she opened the door and saw you drenched face red from the tears.