Oblivious What would I lose? I started #life on the streets. My mother, killed herself when I was 9. We lived roughly, stealing food and pick pocketing for money. My mother was aggressive and wasted her money on drugs. She was always high or completely pissed. She stole alcohol and threw it down. I spent my days doing backflips and handsprings on busy London street. I had spent hours teaching myself, and it earned me money. I hid money from my wasted, drug addict mess of a mother. My sister, Tori, she's younger than me, and used to sit by me all day whilst I did tricks, masterly fake crying and "trying" to sing in her pitiful voice. Every night, as it drew dark, and thugs wandered the streets, we'd pick up our scarce money, and buy whatever was cheapest. Most nights, we survived on bread. My mother, she was a lost cause. We lived behind a large shopping centre, where the bins used to be. They tried to kick us out, so I trained Rocky, our ex fighter half bulldog half Labrador, to growl at the binmen. We rescued Rocky when me and Tori stumbled across a quarry, where, in the pit, crowds watched dogs tearing each other apart. It made me sick to the stomach, and I threatened to stab two men, before running off with the two runts- Rocky and Marley. Marley is a German pointer, and though the breed is strong, they are fragile. Marley stays, curled up, in my cardboard box, all day, and all night. Marley has his left hind leg mauled, so I bought a bandage once, a cheap human one for smart price. I tried and scraped together money for a new bandage each week. Rocky, he was just a puppy when used to fight, and lost an ear, and side of his neck. I came home from the shops, tired and pessimistic, and every day it was the same. Mum, surrounded by cans of cheap alcohol and drug packets and needles. Until one day, I managed to scrape together enough money for new bandages for Marley, and we even had tinned meat, I found mum, surrounded with...