I lay there, set up in bed, my body to a wash with adrenaline, even dream of sleeping or thinking of doing anything.

I just waited, wired and awake.

We waited for her to come back, and kill me.

She never did.

The sun rose and withered came the sound of cars in the street, and dogs barking in the yards.

I nervously stepped out of bed.

My feet were cold against the hard wood, but I barely noticed.

All I could think about was my mother, and how she would react this morning.

Usually she was full of smiles and affection after she'd slept off the booze, but after last night I wasn't so sure.

Something seemed to have changed in her.

When I made my way downstairs for breakfast, she wasn't there.

Normally she was eating her porridge and ready to grab my cereal of choice from the cupboard.

This time it was just me.

The house felt empty.

Lonely.

I clamoured on to the countertop and opened the cupboard, pulling out a box of frosted flakes.

I did my best to remember what Mr. Gillett had told me the day before.

It doesn't matter what my parents think of me, I thought to myself, I need to forge my own path and listen to my heart.

I have to do what I think is right, and not let anybody, my parents or otherwise, get in the way of that.

I thought about his words over my bowl of cereal.

Even if my dad didn't love me, and even if my mom wished I'd never been born, I could still find my own path in life.

As I ate, I monitored the digital clock sitting on our kitchen counter.

...