My Hero Is A Gangleader

The blare of my alarm ripped me from a fitful sleep, every inch of my body protesting with a dull ache. Another morning, another set of bruises, courtesy of Uncle Benson. I dragged myself out of bed, the familiar routine of preparing for Angels High School a comforting, albeit painful, ritual.

My reflection in the mirror was a stranger, hidden beneath the usual oversized hoodie – my shield against the world, and against the scars that whispered of a life I desperately wished to escape. Downstairs, the silence of the house confirmed my uncle had already left for work. Good. One less hurdle before school.

Outside, the crisp morning air offered a brief respite. I clutched my keys, the metallic cold a small comfort against the chilling reality of my life. Another day, another fight to stay invisible.