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Homeless

It's so cold out here. Cold and damp. That's all it ever is. Sometimes I wish I was sitting by the fire, warming up my hands and feet. It's the sort of thing I dreamed about at night. That's when I'm asleep long enough to dream. The rough concrete ground is enough to keep anyone awake at night and the fear of being murdered or raped while your asleep doesn't help either.

At first I couldn't sleep because of all that fear brewing up inside me, not knowing if I was safe in the city that never sleeps or if I was going to be murdered, without anyone knowing. No one would know if I wasn't here on this planet anymore. There was no one here to know. I had no parents, no family or relatives, no one that cared if I was still alive or not. I was all alone in this world and although I doubted that very many people would miss me, I didn't want to die so young.

I was only eighteen years of age after all. I had never had a great life. Always worried whether my parents would overdoes on drugs that day or not. Not knowing if they would be home, or if I would be fed that night. It was a habit of theirs and I was always aware of it. Always aware of what the dangers of cocaine really were. Sometimes, in this cold and dreary weather, I would sit and wonder if maybe cocaine was the answer to my problems. If cocaine was something that would make me feel better at night. Something better than what I was feeling just now. Emptiness.

I had always known what the consequences of a drug addiction were. I had been there to witness it throughout my parents lives. Healthy body's turning into fragile skin and bones. There's not enough money to have food to eat when you have drugs on your mind. Not enough time to eat it either. Always trying to get a fix in so you could go off to that magical place, where there was no one there to disturb you, no troubles would arise in that fantasy place of yours. Life was great there. You had everything you ever wanted. It was like a different world inside this place we call earth.

Not that I knew this from my own personal experience. I had been told by my parents how wonderful it was when you took drugs. They were something that took your mind off this awful god forsaken place. No bills to pay or work to do in that one way world of theirs. It was like all your dreams coming true, in front of your own drugged up eyes.

I looked down the alleyway, seeing if there was anyone around before I tried to settle for the night. I had already laid my sleeping bag down, a knife hidden under that thin coated pillow of mine. It wouldn't matter if I had a comfy pillow or not, the result in the morning would still be the same. My body would ache all over when the morning light came.

I didn't have many possessions with me. The only thing I had managed to keep after my parents death, was a picture frame, with a picture of the three of us, happy and smiling. It was taking when I was only two years old. I couldn't remember that far back but it was a time when my mum and dad were off the drugs and we were a happy, normal family.

My father had been a well know police officer in the area, my mother was a waitress. All the troubles had started when Charlie was sacked from his job for allowing a well know murderer to walk free and charging the wrong guy with the murders. After he was sacked my mother soon followed. She would always be late for work now that Charlie couldn't afford petrol and her boss began to get sick of her lack of appearance, and fired her. By the time I was four they were already heavy hash addicts. Soon after that they got onto the more serious drugs, trying to get a kick out of what the hash couldn't provide for them any longer.

By the time I was thirteen they were heavily into cocaine and since then there had never been a bright day. I never got birthday or Christmas presents. I hardly had any good clothes to wear, most were just hand-me-downs of my mums. Life hadn't been good from then and when my parents died, their house had been repossessed leaving me alone with nothing. Since then I had been living on the streets.

I had one more look up and down the alleyway, making sure no one else was here. Once I knew it was safe, I made sure that my knife was under my pillow, just where I had left it. I got into my sleeping bag and lay my head on the pillow. I looked up at the stars and thought about what life could be like, if I wasn't living on the streets. Out of all the things that had happened to me in my life, this had to be one of the worst. I didn't have a life anymore. Nothing to wake up to in the morning. Nothing for me to live for. I was all alone here.

I was homeless.


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