My Life - Original Writing I am awakened by a loud beep. It's the truck that collects rubbish left outside the kebab shop. I get up and stretch as my legs ache from being curled up all night, trying to protect myself from the cold. A cat brushes against my leg and sends a shiver down my spine, like the one I got when Jason was yelling at me for not telling him he was going to be late for work. It's Sunday morning and I'm walking down the deserted street looking for somewhere to have a coffee, I only have eighty pence with me, which isn't enough for a bacon sandwich, so I have to settle for a coffee. The church bells ring and the women of the town, all dressed in black and dark blue, stand around the priest like bees around their hives and congratulate him on a wonderful sermon and invite him into their home for tea and biscuits. I go into a shelter for a bite to eat, this place is warm and welcoming even though I don't know anyone here. I stand in line and wait to get some tomato soup, coffee and a piece of bread. Further down the line are two men arguing over the last cranberry pie. This brings me back to the rainy, humid, terrifying night I escaped. My face starts to sting as I remember Jason slapping me and shaking me. The hot coffee spills on my hand bringing me back to reality, the volunteer apologizes repeatedly for burning my hand. I take the tray and approach a deserted table in the corner of the room, I sit down and take a newspaper that has remained on the chair next to me. This paper is full of greasy oil and smells like fish and chips have been eaten from it. My attention is drawn to the title "Young woman abandons 8-year-old boy for street life" and I continue reading