A staircase curved round the back wall and a small chandelier hung from the ceiling. She walked up the stairs, Richard in front, whilst Bernie sat pat...ently on the bottom step. When she got to her old room she flung herself onto the bed like she had done so many times and let out a sigh. ‘As you can tell I haven’t really done anything or moved stuff. All your old books and toys are still in the attic if you want them.’ ‘Thanks. Maybe we can dig them out at some point.’ She lay there for. I was 12. I didn’t own gloves and socks don’t do shit when it’s that cold.Andrea was real too. Unlike Michael I didn’t win her heart. I did win her friendship and in the process she reignited my humanity which had been all but extinguished by the time I had met her at 13. I wear a tattoo in her honor. If she was still alive she’d beat my ass for that, but alcohol killed her several years ago.No Father, no money, no status, no social skills, what I did have was a mind. I found that the more I. More

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