I've Got a Feeling

Life is Cruel

Date: January 5th 1954

I was locked in my room, sobbing and hearing my parents fighting and my father insulting my mother with every word he could think of, dominated by his alcohol addiction.
I'd never got used to it, their mood was always different and the slightest thing could set them on fire; even though it didn't take too much especially for my dad to have a reason to violently punish me; "It's how every parent should educate their child" I've always been told. I didn't believe it, but I always found a way to make myself believe it was my fault and it was the only way I could cope with it.
That day the wrath inside them could have burned out the entire building.
I couldn't take it anymore. And with my glasses all wet by my tears and my entire body shaking, I managed to quickly pack a bag with the essential stuff and some food, to eventually gather the courage to climb out the window without making any noticeable, loud noise.

My name is Anna Payne, I was born on January 5th 1944 and back then I lived in a pretty small apartment in Liverpool. It was only me and my parents; I was aware I had a brother somewhere, but the only thing I knew about him was that my parents put him for adoption the day he was born: I was more than enough they said.
I tried bringing up the argument a few times, but since their reaction wasn't the best I feared asking any question about it.

No sooner had I stepped onto the cold ground covered in snow that I realised that I was completely alone. I was 'known' to be the quiet one at school, with no friends, which meant now I was basically homeless.
The thought of climbing back up into my bedroom made its way into my mind but was soon brushed off by the still hearable drunk swears of my father; any place would be better than the place I called home.

I nimbly walked a few miles along the road, when I collapsed on the ground. At that point I was just a weak, tired, scared and hopeless 10 years old girl; I had nowhere to go or to spend the night (I didn't dare to go to the police. I couldn't spend one more night in that bloody house) so I curled up into a small corner and carefully slipped a small blanket out of my bag and hoped for the night to quickly go by and let the sun shine for a bright yet cold and lonely new day.

I had no idea what I would do or where I would find shelter for the following nights, but one thing was sure of, was that anywhere would have been better than that tiny apartment and I'd prefer any company to the two selfish parents I had been raised by.