C73 Who do I talk to now?

Jason Davenport

I sat on a bench outside a small supermarket. It was my second night sleeping in the streets. To me it still felt like a dream. I'd gotten angry, cried, begged my mother for forgiveness, but still nothing.

The tiny hope I'd harbored that Dad would come looking for me has dissipated. And now I was completely hopeless, helpless. I had nowhere to go, no one to talk to