Bludstart - Blog Posts

Matilda didn’t like exploiting her friends' kindness. She disliked it almost as much as she disliked not having a stable home. But at this point, the blonde has learnt to accept that the hands she’s been dealt are pretty shit - and even if she tries her best to put on a happy front - it all just kinda sucks. At least she’s got a tent. It could always be worse.

The tent in question is set up in its usual spot next to the pond in the park. She feels a lot less alone knowing the ducks are just outside. Plus, it’s quiet - or at least it is until almost midnight when what sounds like a footstep breaks through the silence. Matilda is quick to grab the flashlight next to her and unzip the tent ‘‘ whose there? ’’ she calls into the darkness.

Sammy is almost always the first to throw the punch. It’s a fight or flight instilled in him - gifted even, by his father. And when his anxiety levels are already high, so are the rest of his emotions. He’s barely slept, bags under his eyes from a four-day stand-off with his dad, so when a couple of older men that used to tease him in school make a snide comment about his mother, he’s the first to throw the punch. Every ounce of frustration that has built up goes straight to his fists as he swings, ‘‘ Fuckin’ say it again ! ’’ He’s spitting like some feral animal, barely registering the hands that grab him from behind and pull him away ‘‘ No - let me fuckin’ at ‘em, I can take them. ’’ the heel of his hands press into his eyes as he tries to bring himself back down. ‘‘ they’re always fuckin’ pickin’ at me, that group of fucking pratts are. They called the fuckin’ cops on my brother last week as well ! ’’