The peculiar car drives past in a wiz of muffled music and screeches.
Every now and then the old couple shuffle past walking their uncharacteristically moody dog.
The trees block the sunlight and my skin is left in patches of darkness and biblical light that portray images beauty and at the same time evil.
The cracked pavement swallows the escaping leaves and holds them in its lonely grasp.
I shiver as the wind gently sways me forward and backwards on the rusted swing set.
I daringly hop of the yellow plastic slab they call a swing seat and land in the coarse grass.
I turn up my thrifted jeans and pull my laces tight to make sure my cheaply made canvas shoes don't fall off when I run back to the house, I put on my khaki coat and begin my treacherous journey through my beloved suburban neighbourhood the sun batters on my coat and I feel the warmth penetrate the fabric but yet I am still cold because the weather paints a warm image but displays a cold hearted feeling.
My wild brown hair flutters in the wind as I make my way weaving through the lamp posts, I hop over the cracks in the pavement as Tommy told me it was bad luck to step on them, I reach the end of my driveway as I feel the comfort of being near a place that loves you.
I skip down my driveway and climb up my front porch steps and knock the door "knock , knock".
My mum swings open the door and gives me a gentle smile and I enclosed her in my arms and held her tightly in a loving embrace.
She scooted me up the stairs and told me to get on with my homework, her voice soft but with a hint of her Irish heritage.
I close my door behind me and crack on with my work as my mum would say.
Time passes as I'm engrossed with the struggle of maths and equations.
The front door opens,
And in comes my step father,
A brute, a bully.
He's the reason I spend all my day in the neighbourhood and at the park.
He's my abuser.
