I get a message from Dave. It’ll be another house before he’s home. Is it best to go to his mums?
I panic and worry about my parents’ reactions. I hate this feeling and start crying my eyes out. How pathetic?
But that is how I feel. I hate that I do. That I have been made to feel scared to arrive home after a certain time. I really hate it. If we were living in our own place I wouldn’t feel this way. We’d be able to come and go as we please. No matter the time.
I sent a message to my mum to come upstairs. She found me crying my eyes out. Once I calmed, I told her about the message and that it’ll be later. I said I was being stupid. But I said the truth.
David is coming back here. Even at the later time. But I don’t feel that it’ll change how I feel about being, being made to feel like I have a curfew when I don’t. I’ve never had a curfew. It’s not that I stayed out late all the time. I was a good kid.
But I guess it is my take on other people words. My mum obviously told my step-dad and he came up to hug me and said there’s no need to cry. Even so, I still can’t wait to be in my own house.