I escaped early this morning to go to church. I don't particularly like church, but I feel safe there. To be honest, I feel safe anywhere except home. I sang all the hymns from the little book even though I didn't really know the tune to most of them and lots of people glared at me for going off key. So, I whispered the words to myself instead.
I couldn't go for Communion but I went out for a blessing. I don't think I deserved it though; planning to run away from home and all. When Mass was over, I walked around town for a bit. There wasn't much to do because all the shops were closed and the gangs of boys were spray painting rude messages on the walls and shutters. I knew from experience that staying here would be a bad idea. Before I even had time to think, the police would have pounced on me.
I wandered aimlessly for another two hours before returning home to a till silent house. My parents had been out all night (drinking no doubt) and hadn't come back yet. I found myself wishing I'd been ready to make a run for it when my dad staggered in, brushed past me without looking at me and collapsed on the couch, snoring loudly. I crept upstairs, careful not to wake him and sat down on my bed. I reached under my bed and pulled out Jessie, a doll I'd bought myself as a birthday present this year. I know I sound like a baby, cuddling dolls in my bedroom but I find she comforts me by just being there. She's the Best Friend I've never had.
That's all that's happened so far today. My dad's still passed out on the couch and Jessie is still sitting on my knee as I'm typing this. If anything else happens tonight, I'll let you know but I expect the same treatment as last night when my mum shakes my dad awake tonight and he realised he hasn't eaten yet.