Shroud

Somewhere in the Middle.

After my Dad died, things with Mom got worse. She became more angry, less willing to provide me with necessities that weren't a roof over my head. She would be out constantly, late at night, and I would always worry that one night she might not come back.
I got a job at a resteraunt that opened in town. A cute little diner that managed to cut in between the large fancy resteraunts of the city. It was perfect. Walking distance from my house, flexibility during the school year, good pay and kind workers. I wouldn't have traded it if I didn't need to.
I started staying at a friends house more and more when my mom wasn't around. They were like my second family, I felt safe with them. At home. Like this is what a functional family should feel like.
Every time I went I was so sad to leave again. A few times, I begged my friends parents to let me stay, so I wouldn't be alone. So I could feel that safety for just a bit longer.

Eventually I got a car, and some nights I would just sleep in it. It felt safe than my house. More closed in, closer to comfort.
In my second to last year of highschool, I joined more clubs to keep me preoccupied, and started babysitting for a family down the street. A mother and her twin daughters, aged 6. Some nights they'd invite me in to stay for dinner, and I would help with the cleanup then go home. The children were adorable, and I felt like a proud parent whenever they told me about something good they did or an award they got. They were what made me decide I wanted kids one day, when I vowed to be a better mother than mine.

I did well in highschool. Got a scholarship to go to University, became the lead role in a musical we did in Grade 11 and a stagehand/understudy in Grade 12. I also became Vice-President on the student council. Things were looking absolutely perfect.