On the morning of my American Idol audition, my stepmom locked me in my room—but in the end, karma paid her back.

I’m Kelly, 17. Singing has always been my escape — ever since my mom died. Dad couldn’t handle the grief, and when he remarried, I became invisible. Debora and her daughters erased every trace of my mother and buried me in chores.

Secretly, I recorded a song about my mom and submitted it to American Idol. When I got invited to audition, I was thrilled. But the morning of, I woke up late — my phone gone, door locked from the outside. Debora told me I’d never make it and left me trapped.

I broke out through the window, bleeding and desperate, and ran. A kind stranger drove me to the venue. I got there just in time — and sang like my life depended on it.

When I got home, the police were there. Debora had gotten stuck herself, and my stepsister confessed everything. Dad finally saw what had been happening.

A few days later, Idol called: I made it to the next round. This time, Dad drove me.

Turns out, justice doesn’t always come with applause — sometimes, it starts with finally being heard.