Chapter 95

I wake up on the morning of my birthday in a pre-decided crappy mood. It started before I got into bed, and although I shouldn’t put so much emphasis on one shitty day a year, I can’t help it. It’s not just my birthday; it’s the day she let that bastard do what he did to me and changed my entire life. That fateful day aged eleven years old, my mother lost her right to call herself that, once and for all.

So I am in no mood to celebrate the anniversary of the death of my innocence in any way, shape or form. It’s a bad memory from a dark place, and one I wish would bypass without my knowledge.

I get up and head straight for the shower so as not to ponder it, dragging my arse in that same crappy frame of mind from yesterday, already overshadowed by my cloud of doom and gloom. I have plans to keep myself occupied all day—Shower, food, take my time getting ready, then I have a couple of hours to vegetate in front of a shitty bunch of soppy films and drink my sorrows out till