‘And today’s sermon shall be on the value of chastity.’ The bitter thought swirls and sticks as I sit, eyes downcast, a penitent look fixed firmly on my face, listening to Mum berate me for missing my curfew, yet again. Why doesn’t she get it? Her rules were fine when I was a kid, but I’m almost an adult now, it’s time she came to terms with that.
My bedroom door jangles, shaken to its hinges with the force of the slam.
“I hate you! You don’t understand anything!”
Like rotting fruit she hung from the branches of the tree. Arms aching, tear-stained face, knees scraped.
How long had she hung there? She had run, the gang of kids behind her, laughing, taunting, cruel adult-child voices rising in derision.