Dad or Sam as i prefer to call him, back home from the pub and like always plain drunk. If felt like Christmas every second he wasn't here, he was violent and argued constantly with mum and i was sick of it. Sam has no job and brings in no income, he does not help my mum in anyway with money and is an absolute bum but the worst part is. He hits. Mum's too terrified to get a divorce, shes saving enough money to get away from him and to actually move on with her life but with no one paying for the bills or food it's hard to even save. Luckily, he would never hit mum in front of us and she was sleeping in her room with the door locked of course, so i guess she was okay for now.
"Wheres your mother?" he growled as he dragged himself over to me. The smell of beer lingered in my nostrils and the stench of his own, personal odour made me want to puke. "Shes upstairs sleeping." i didn't want to make conversation so i started to clear the table and avoid eye-contact. Sam would never reply to what i would say which was not nothing new, he felt children weren't important and didn't need that much attention. Having "loving" parents didn't ever bother me, to be honest i felt i didn't have parents or that i was adopted. I know its harsh feeling like this, but they'd never know and wouldn't even care. Not noticing Sam had left the kitchen and passed out on the sofa, i had finished the washing up and headed to my room. My favourite place in the whole world.