**Diary Entry 15th of May, 1998**
When I turned fifteen, my parents decided they absolutely needed another child. My little brother arrived soon after, and suddenly, all responsibility for him and the housework fell on me. There was no time left for homework, and I was scolded for poor grades. But the worst was yet to come. Until your brother finishes school, dont even think about boys! my father snapped. I knew then I had to make a drastic choice.
Everyone congratulated me when Thomas was born, as if I should celebrate. But I couldnt. Looking back, it still hurts, but perhaps writing it down will help.
Mum was pleased to have a daughternot because she loved me, but because I was free childcare. When Thomas turned one, she stopped breastfeeding overnight and went back to work full-time. Granny came in the mornings, but by the time I got home from school, she was either napping or gone. Thomas was left crying in my arms, and no matter what I did, I couldnt soothe him.
I barely had a moment to myself. Nappies, meals, washingit never ended. If my parents came home to dirty dishes or unironed clothes, theyd shout about how lazy and ungrateful I was. Homework happened late at night, and my grades suffered. Out of pity, teachers gave me Cs, but that only earned me more lectures.
The washing machine washes, the dishwasher cleanswhat do *you* do all day? Too busy dreaming of parties? Dad would bark, while Mum nodded along. As if shed forgotten what it was like to chase a toddler while keeping a house in order.
True, the washing machine workedbut someone had to load it, hang the clothes, and iron yesterdays pile. The dishwasher? I wasnt allowed to run it during the daytoo expensive. Baby bowls had to be scrubbed by hand. And no one envied me mopping floors daily while Thomas crawled and ran wild.
Things eased slightly when he started nursery. I still had to fetch and feed him, but at least I had a few afternoon hours to study. I worked harder, scraping by without Cs.
I dreamed of studying biologythe only subject that truly interested me. But my parents refused. The universitys an hour and a half away. When would you get back? Thomas needs collecting. Dont even think about it.
So, they chose for me: a vocational college nearby, training to be a pastry chef. The first term was a blurwhat people now call depression. But slowly, I grew to love itthe cakes, the biscuits, the delicate desserts. By the second year, I worked weekends at a local café. My parents grumbled, but I clung to those hours like a lifeline. After graduation, I went full-time.
Then came the new head chef, Daniel. We started meeting after shifts, and my parents erupted. Dad began turning up after work to drag me home. One evening, they called a family meetingGranny, Aunt Lydia, her husband. They circled me like a jury.
Forget boyfriends and outings, Aunt Lydia announced. Ive got you a job at Thomass schoolkitchen assistant.
Brilliant news! Mum chirped. Youll finish by three, help at home. Thomas will always have you.
Give up the café? Where I was valued, paid, *happy*? Where Daniel worked? I pictured my futuresoggy fish fingers in a school canteen, evenings scrubbing pans, a life revolving around Thomas.
No boys until he finishes school, Dad said firmly.
The next day, I told Daniel everything. We hatched a plan. Hed been saving to open his own café but needed investors. At home, I lied: Two more weeks for notice. They agreed.
No loan came through, but Daniels friend, a manager at a posh London restaurant, offered him a role in a new venture there. He convinced them to video-call me. As I spoke, Daniel presented my dessertssmuggled in a cooler.
On my last shift, I left early. I crept home, stuffed a bag with clothes, documents, and savings, and caught the train to London.
Now, I live for *my* choicesnot obligations forced on me.
I do love Thomas, and I hope one day well be close. I dont hate my parents, but I know Id never have broken free under their roof. Maybe Im not strong enough to stand up to thembut I was strong enough to leave. Heres to a new life, far from their rules.
**Lesson:** Sometimes, running away isnt cowardiceits the bravest way to save yourself.
