Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story.

I slowly trailed away from the graveyard, not once looking back, I wanted to, I really did, but I couldn't, I don't know why, I just couldn't. I felt like a part of me had been taken away, stolen from me, I hadn't felt like this for a long, long time. This brought a thought upon me, memories, of my life, before everything, before I even lived with Ma, before I was a Mercer, before I was anyone.

"Bobby! Bobby! Get ya ass down 'ere now you sonuvabitch!" 'Dad' called

I cursed under my breath and stood up, taking a deep breath as I prepared myself for what was about to happen. The experience was all too familiar, but one I was accustomed to by now. It happened, every other day; he seemed to have a schedule for it. The beatings, well, they seemed to be, some what, more frequent and random, they could come at any time, rain or shine, night or day, it didn't matter, if he wanted someone to beat on, and I was there, I'd get it. I never bothered to tell anyone, I didn't want people to judge me, so I let it happen, but I'd never bring someone home, not even if I was paid too do it. It happened sometimes though, that social services would come by, someone had heard screaming and shouting and had called them, he liked that, he liked it a lot, he'd pretend like we were all happy families and shit, act like he was the proud father and I was the kid, the kid who was constantly getting in fights, a real little rebellion, bullshit, I wasn't the worst kid in school, nah, that wasn't my scene, I preferred to keep my mouth shut, I didn't ask for trouble, I didn't get trouble, so I kept it that way, but when the socials came round, it was different, I acted like that was me, like I was that rebellious kid. I hated those times, more than anything, the motherfucker who called socials, had no idea what they'd done, just how much they'd interfered and how deep in shit I was after a visit. Eventually, I slowly started turning into that kid, the rebellion, but it didn't make him proud, no, it just made him despise me all the more, it gave him a kick, seeing me try to fight back and defend myself and it made me develop a deep hatred towards the bastard. Of course he wasn't my real dad. Nah, I'd never known him, never known anyone, had been in and out of foster homes since I was born. At first, everything was alright, I had a pretty ok life up until the day I did something wrong, spilt something, ripped something, broke something, those were the times that made everything start to turn.

"What do you want?" I asked, even though it was pretty damn obvious what he wanted from me.

"Don't you get wise with me boy?" He yelled, grabbing me by the collar and pushing me up against the wall.

"I ain't doing nothing you motherfucker!" I screamed, kicking my legs at him.

He just laughed and took a swig of beer then dropped me on the floor and kicked me, I winced, clutching my stomach as I felt his foot colliding with my skin, each time, leaving a deep dent in it, breaking it, drawing blood, just what he wanted. I didn't try to stop him, there was no stopping him, I just let him do it, then stumbled to my feet and ran upstairs to my room. I sat on my bed, for about three hours, just crying and shaking, it was what I'd do every time he did it. I sat on the bed, putting a cigarette to my lips and taking a long drag to settle my nerves, I only smoked when I was nervous or something bad had happened. I waited there, just sitting, until I heard him going to bed, then silently tip toed across the room and grabbed my rucksack out of the closet and started throwing clothes into it. I slowly opened the door, taking a glance along the corridor to make sure his bedroom door was shut then crept across the hallway and down the stairs, I jumped each time a stair creaked or I heard a light noise, every time, nothing, just me and my nerves.

I gave a faint sigh of relief as I got outside then ran, ran as far as I could, and as fast as I could, I headed for the train station, but must've blacked out, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up, in someone else's bed.

"Well hello there honey. It's nice to see you awake at last." A small woman with blonde curls said cheerfully.

I looked at her and raised an eyebrow then put a hand to my head "Where am I?" I asked

She smiled at me "You're at Apple way foster home dear. You were found at the train station, knocked out, my name is Evelyn Mercer."

I nodded "Bobby." I replied, sitting up in the bed.

"So, Bobby, would you like to tell me what happened?" She asked, putting her hands together and looking in the eyes.

I looked at her and nodded, there was something about her, I felt as though I could trust her, like I'd known her forever, so I told her, everything, from start to finish, she didn't say anything, just listened intently to every word that came out of my mouth. Once I was finished she took my hand in hers and smiled then said.

"Everything's going to be alright." She reassured me.

I just stared at her blankly; everything was going to be alright? She had no idea, sure she seemed like a nice lady, but when the old man found out about this, I was dead for sure. I shook my head and then pushed the covers back and got up.

"Where are my clothes la-Ms Mercer?" I asked "Where's my stuff?"

"Bobby…you can't go back, we can help you. I can help you."

"I don't need help from nobody. I don't want your…your charity." I snapped then immediately felt guilty.

I looked at her for a second and then sighed "I'm sorry, but I need to leave. I just need to."

She looked at me, her eyes slightly narrowed and lips partly open. "I'm helping you Bobby, because I want to help you. I want the best for you and I am not going to give up." She said a little sharper than I'd thought she could.

I was halfway out the door when she said this but something beyond my control stopped me, I had no idea what it was, but it was like I couldn't move any further. This lady was different, I'd never met anybody like her in my whole life, I found myself unable to walk out on her, it just felt…wrong.

I wiped once more at my face as I dawned upon the house, memories were flooding back to me by the second, I'd never forgotten the day I met mom, but it was different, she wasn't my mom when I met her, she was just…some old lady.