I'm Ebony.
Well, Ebony Jade Thorne to be precise. I live in Skegness, near the east coast of England, but enough of where I live, I'm writing the first page of my diary!! You may be thinking, why choose a random day to start a diary? Its not the new year, it's not a birthday, so why start now? The reason is I've just been sent a letter, not just any letter, a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! So I'm sort of writing about a new…phase of my life! God I just sounded like a retard then!
Here's a little bit about me: I'm Ebony, as we have just established! I'm 11 years old, and I live at home with my mum and my little brother Idris. Our dad left us when my mum was pregnant with Idris. I was 5 at the time, but I was more aware of what was going on between my parents then either of them thought. About 7 years ago life was perfect, my dad had a good job at a car firm somewhere and my mum stayed home to look after me. But then when dad became redundant things changed. He would just sulk around the house. He would either be drunk before 12 or just off to the pub. The last of my mums savings were put towards fags and beer. When mum found out she was pregnant she was over the moon! She thought that her being pregnant would make a new man out of dad. No such luck. It had no effect what so ever on him. But sometimes I think that he spent the extra few pounds on fags, just to spite mum. Her being in a hormonal (I hate writing that!) state meant that she would argue back at dad. And that lead to loud verbal abuse. Most nights that happened I couldn't sleep. Imagine this for a second: you are a small child of around 4 or 5, and you are woken to the sound of shouting coming from downstairs. You grab your special blanket and venture into the dark landing. Your fingers are sweaty on the cool banister as you stumble clumsily down the stairs. Peeping round the door to the living room, you see daddy spit at mummy, and mummy clutch her stomach and gasps. She hasn't got a big bump but its still noticable. This makes daddy very angry. He throws a punch at her face. She falls to the floor, protecting her stomach, her beautiful red hair covering her face. You yell out, and try to run and help her, but daddy sees you, his face twisted in rage. He grabs you roughly round the middle and slams you screaming and kicking on the floor next to mummy. Everything goes black.
That little 4 year old was me. Thats one of my tales from a broken home.
