My mom has never seen me come home.

During her lifetime, my mother was like a friend to me. But there was one thing I did not have the strength to forgive her for.

My father often beat my mother, drank himself to death, didn’t come home, and lived on the streets.

Mother endured all the hardships that were thrown at her. In my case, I had to start working at the age of 13. To assist my mother, I handed out leaflets at the supermarket entrance.

It was just too much for me to deal with. I often stayed overnight with a friend. He had a wonderful family, so at least I knew there were some good people out there.

It used to be that I would give some of my money to my mother while keeping some of it for myself. Well, maybe I should use this money in the future.

To earn money, I grabbed every opportunity possible. My mother was glad to receive my money since she had been unemployed for quite a long time. Her life became increasingly difficult as a result.

It was my birthday that day. I turned 17 that day. So I took my money from the hidden place where I kept it. That’s why I decided to move away from my parents. The money was placed back in the cupboard after I counted it. I decided to buy a birthday cake to make my birthday look special.

The time had come for me to return home and find no money in the cupboard. I was devastated. I started crying because all my hard-earned money had been taken. Mother entered the room, saying that she had taken the cash. She had used the money for brand-new clothes that were too old for us to wear.

At that moment I started crying. Could my mom not believe me? She knew I was utterly consumed by my jobs, trying to make as much money as possible. I took my phone and walked away, leaving them a birthday cake.

Luckily, one of my friends had a grandmother who needed a nurse. This allowed me to both work and live with their family. Sometimes I worked online doing gigs when I had the time.

I found out my parents had died during a conversation with a friend. I hadn’t seen them in seven years since I moved out. My father died of alcoholism, and my mother of cancer. I also learned that they had a three-year-old boy.

Of course, I could not put him in a foster family. Therefore, I took it upon myself, especially since I didn’t object to it with Ms. Fisher, who I lived with. She was an understanding person.

The first question that came to my mind was, “Will he be able to live with us?”

“It is, of course, possible, sweetheart. You are like a child to me. I don’t mind at all!” retorted Ms. Fisher.

“Thank you very much, Ms. Fisher!”

It was a stressful time in my life. As soon as I got my freedom, I started making plans for the future. However, those plans were useless. I have a little brother now that I have to look out for, and I want him to have a better life than mine.

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My mom has never seen me come home.