One day we'd be able to leave. Mum would get a job, and she'd take me away from Darren's small, housing-commission flat. We'd rent for a bit, and some day we'd buy a place of our own. Away from Darren, away from the yelling and the punches and the many nights when she'd hold me tight, and tell me that everything would be okay. When we had nothing to do but wait for Darren to come home in the early hours of the morning, completely intoxicated.
That's what she told me, anyway.
YOU ARE READING
The Other Side
General FictionThis is just a short little something I wrote on a whim. I've wanted to write about homelessness for a while now, seeing as it is such a widespread and taboo issue, and it was a theme that I thought would be easy for many people to relate to. I've c...
