It was just another day for me. I'd got used to the pain and had learnt how to hide it; after all, if I let it show they would only make it worse.

My body was covered in bruises and blood, and scars both old and new. My head throbbed and once again I knew it wouldn't be long until I blacked out. I suppose it didn't help living like I did, but there was nothing I could about it. My parents were drunk when they conceived me and they had been drunk for as long as I could remember. Even now, I could hear them shouting, and I prayed that they wouldn't take it out on me.

I knew my prayers made no difference though, and soon enough, I could hear them coming up the stairs.

There was a loud 'BANG!' as the door flung open. I covered my eyes as the first bit of light I had seen in days creeped through the door.

"GET UP!" My mother shouted; her voice wobbling and unclear. I didn't move, as I knew that I would not be able to stand. My father grabbed the front of my T-shirt and pulled me to my feet, as I let out a quiet yelp. Pain filled my body and I tried to stay awake; though I had little energy remaining in my body.

One blow was all it took to knock me out. They did this more frequently every week, some times worse than others. I hated it but there was nothing I could do to stop it; if there was a way, I would use it.

When I awoke, it was dark and cold, and I assumed that I had been unconscious for a few hours. As I became fully aware of my surroundings, I noticed that I was no longer in the old and dusty attic, and was in fact lying in a street.

The street was cold and empty, the concrete sharp under my hands as I pulled myself upright. It was dark and quite late at night, and one flickering streetlight was all that was visible for what seemed like miles. This made the setting a whole lot more eerie and creepy.

There were also drops dripping from my forehead from where I had been previously hit. This was once again consuming all of my energy as I fort to stay awake. With the little energy I had left, I managed to curl myself into a tight ball. This was just enough to keep the tiny amount of body heat in, as I sat helpless and alone in the middle of nowhere.

I heard footsteps coming towards me and I stayed silent hoping that they would pass. As they got louder, I hugged my legs tighter.

Suddenly, they stopped, and a voice asked "Are you okay?"

I ignored this in the hope that they would leave. I felt them bend down close to me and pull my arm away from my legs. "Why are you out here? Isn't it a bit late?"; she must have realised that I was just a child, judging by her kind and gently tone of voice.

I lifted my head up slightly and she must have noticed the blood dripping slowly from my head, as she pulled out a phone from her pocket. I heard her ask for an ambulance, and I gave her a look as if to say 'please, no...'. She replied in a whisper as she put her phone back and took hold of my hand, "It'll be okay..."

She smiled, and I just stared at the ground as my body started to shake and tears fell silently down my cheeks. My parents would never forgive me.

She saw that I was shaking, and placed her jacket around my shoulders. "What's your name darling?" She asked in a gentle voice. I didn't answer as I did not have the courage, and couldn't face anyone finding out about my life.

She sensed that I wasn't going to answer and added "I'm Jess, Jessica Harrison. I'm a nurse at Holby City ED and I'm going to get you sorted out, yeah?" She smiled and I couldn't help but feel slightly pleased that she had found me. Being with her made me feel protected and most of all safe; this was something I had never felt before, and I was glad that I could finally feel it.