Alex is a 17 year old boy from a dysfunctional family in Bromford, Birmingham. He gets home from his best-friend James' party and everything changes.
The moonlight slanted through the rooftops and into the alley to paint my breath white on the air. I barely noticed the scene as I stumbled home. The chill winter night made me shudder just as much as the thought of finding my parents awake. James' party was great but I hadn't really thought about coming home.
If my step-dad caught me tonight he'd beat the crap out of me, he didn't need a reason to but when he did have one it was worse. I hated him, I had to put up with him since I was twelve. My real dad sold his car dealership and eloped with his secretary when I was ten. I hoped everyday that he was gone that they had died in some freak accident which grew more gruesome by the day. Then one day my mum brought home David, he was nice at first. He bought me stuff and won my mum over with romantic dinners and his spontaneous antics. He moved in after a few months of dating. After another few months peaceful living they started arguing, that was when mum started smelling of vodka. There were bottles under her bed, dark rings around her eyes, and dark patches appeared on various other parts of her too. He started beating me when I tried to protect my mum with a cricket bat, he beat me so bad that I couldn't go to school the next day.
I got to the apartement block and meandered up the grafitti laden stairwells hoping that my step-dad was worn out and gone to bed. I walked down the narrow hallway to number 47, slumped against the wall and made my first attempt to get the key in the keyhole, I got it the fourth time. I gingerly stepped and swayed in the direction of my room. The sitting room stank of beer and the telly was still on. He must've watched the match was what I was thinking when I stumbled over a can of Dutch Gold and landed on the rest of the empty six-pack. As I lay on the floor still not quite sure how I got there I heard someone get up. The quiet "no, just leave him tonight . . . please" confirmed my fears. I heard a solid smack, mum would have a bruise somewhere on her face tomorrow. He came out his beer belly hanging adorning his worn jeans. I knew he was angry by the pure hatred that flashed in his steel eyes.