Oblivious pt.2 By hundreds of needles. Her ears are caked in blood, her eyes are dead and distant. Tori screamed, and I cried. Marley was growling, uncertain of it all. Rocky sat, cocked his head. I remember collapsing to the floor, dropping the tins of dog food I had stolen, and the crusty bread. I shook my mum. As if I didn't know. Her nose was bleeding, her body was red. I opened her mouth, and of course, blood caked her tongue and teeth. I couldn't understand how she overdosed so much. I didn't know what to do with her. That hurt me most. I had to strip her to nothing, and place her in the sea. I was choked up, sobbing, as me and Tori dragged her, in the dead of night. We held her clothes and sobbed. We went back to our boxes, curled up with Rocky and Marley, and when we woke, we were faced with more tears. Rocky was up in an instant, growling at the other dog. But the pitbull facing him jumped, straight onto him. "Jesus Christ, no!" I screamed. I tore them apart, crying already, shoving Tori down. Tori smartly grabbed Marley, held him close, but the pitbull jumped on Rocky. He started tearing his skin apart before my eyes. I kicked at the other dog, screamed and screamed and kicked. The dog flipped, grabbing my he

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...