Never Coming Home

Chapter 4

Just realised the "always?" "always." Bit, is reeeeeaaaaally similar to the fault in our stars line. sorry guys that was not intended :)

I get home and open the door tentatively. I catch a glimpse of my dad sleeping at the kitchen table before I have to duck my head back out of the door due to the horrifying stench. The smell of sweat, booze and vomit reaches my nose, making my insides churn and my nose burn. I should be used to the smell by now as my father is always drunk, but somehow the smell is always fresh. "Hey dad" I call as I walk through the door. Earning me a loud grunt as a reply. Sighing I push open the door to my room and dump my bag on the mattress that serves as my bed. We are very poor because of my fathers drinking habits so I sold my bed years ago to pay for more food. I have very few things to call my own. We live in a dirty little shack house infested with lice, rats and other horrible beasties I don't want to think about. It is dank and disgusting but at least we don't live on the streets. I think having a dirty roof is better tab a clean pavement.

I vaguely remember that when I was very little we used to be a perfect family. We had a small but pretty house and I used to play in our tiny garden with my brother while our parents watched over us. Then everything changed... My mum died, my brother was sent to the games. I was upset and lost, yes, but I used the pain and suffering to make me stronger. I started training with not just my heart and soul, but my brother's and my mum's. I found a talent for knife throwing and excelled in my year, I was also best in my year at the obstacle and agility course and still am and managed to threaten even some of the boys when it came to hand to hand combat. I had found something new, a new love to help me get over my losses. Sadly my dad didn't take it so well. He spends all our money on drink and I often find myself with nothing to eat. He stopped work and is constantly at the pub drinking alone a blank look in his eyes as if he's staring at something that isn't actually there. Sometimes he doesn't come home for days at a time leaving me to fend for myself. These are the days when I miss my
mother most. She became ill and died a few days after I started training. Now, I am alone with just my drunken dad to look after me. Not that he does...

After I have dumped my bag I head through to our "kitchen" and see of there is any food. Nothing. Not even an old piece of bread. I wish there was a way to magic up meals out of thin air and have whatever you wanted steaming hot and fresh right in front of you, at the click of your fingers but sadly there isn't. I feel myself slowly wasting away into nothing. I sigh and head back to my room. Sleeping helps ease the pain of hunger. Besides I have to get up early tomorrow and find some food before training. Training is more important to me than ever now, because I am going in for the exam. The exam! I smile to myself. I was hoping to volunteer for the games when I turned 18 but now I am hopefully able to volunteer at 17. The sooner I volunteer, the sooner I can win and get money and rewards.
I will never go hungry again.