**Diary Entry**
When my father abandoned us, my stepmother pulled me from the hell of the orphanage. Ill always be grateful to fate for the second mother who saved my shattered life.
When I was little, my life felt like a fairy talea happy, loving family in a cosy cottage by the Thames, near the village of Aylesbury. There were three of us: me, Mum, and Dad. The air smelled of her fresh-baked scones, and Dads deep voice filled our evenings with stories of old river tales. But fate is a merciless predator, lurking in the shadows, striking when you least expect it. One day, Mum began to fadeher smile dimmed, her hands weakened, and soon, the hospital in Oxford became her final stop. She left, leaving a void that tore our hearts apart. Dad drowned in darkness, seeking comfort in whisky, turning our home into a ruin of shattered glass and silent despair.
The fridge stood empty, a mirror of our downfall. I trudged to school in Aylesbury, dirty and hungry, eyes full of shame. Teachers asked why I never did my homework, but how could I study when all I thought about was surviving another day? Friends turned away, their whispers cutting deeper than the bitter wind, while neighbours watched our home crumble with pity in their eyes. Finally, someone called social services. Stern officials barged in, ready to wrench me from Dads shaking hands. He fell to his knees, sobbing, begging for one last chance. They gave him a fragile montha final thread of hope over the abyss.
That meeting shook him. He rushed to the shop, hauled back groceries, and together we scrubbed the house until it faintly echoed its old warmth. He stopped drinking, and in his eyes flickered a shadow of the father hed once been. I began to believe in redemption. One windy evening, as the Thames murmured outside, he hesitantly said he wanted me to meet a woman. My heart frozehad he forgotten Mum? He swore her memory was sacred, but this was meant to shield us from the relentless gaze of social workers.
Thats how Aunt Sophie came into my life.
We went to see her in Bath, a city nestled among hills, where she lived in a little house overlooking the Avon, surrounded by wild apple trees. Sophie was like a stormwarm yet unyielding, her voice soothing, her arms a shelter. She had a son, Alfie, two years younger than me, a skinny lad with a grin that lit up the gloom. We clicked instantlyracing through fields, climbing trees, laughing till our sides ached. On the way home, I told Dad Sophie was like sunlight breaking through our darkness. He just nodded silently. Soon after, we left our cottage by the Thames, rented it out, and moved to Batha desperate bid for a fresh start.
Life began to mend. Sophie cared for me with a love that healeddarning my torn trousers, cooking steaming stews that filled the house with warmth, while evenings were spent with Alfie cracking jokes. He became my brother, not by blood but by bonds woven in painwe fought, dreamed, forgave in quiet devotion. But happiness is a fragile thread, snapped by fates cruel hand. One frosty morning, Dad didnt come home. The phone shattered the silencehed been crushed by a lorry on an icy road. Grief swallowed me like a wave, drowning me in darkness deeper than ever. Social services returned, cold and merciless. With no legal guardian, they tore me from Sophies arms and threw me into an orphanage in Bristol.
The orphanage was hellgrey walls, cold beds, sighs and hollow stares. Time crawled like eternity, each day a blow to my soul. I felt like a ghost, abandoned and unwanted, haunted by nightmares of endless loneliness. But Sophie never gave up. She visited every week, bringing bread, hand-knitted jumpers, and a fierce will to fight. She battled like a lionessracing through offices, filling out stacks of paperwork, pleading with bureaucrats just to get me back. Months passed, and I lost hope, convinced Id rot in that grim place forever. Then one grey day, I was called to the headmasters office: Pack your things. Your mums here.
I stepped into the yard and saw Sophie and Alfie at the gate, their faces burning with hope and strength. My legs buckled as I ran into their arms, tears streaming. Mum, I cried, thank you for pulling me from that abyss! I swear youll never regret it! In that moment, I understoodfamily isnt just blood; its the heart that holds you when everything falls apart.
I returned to Bath, to my room, to school. Life settled into a gentler rhythmI finished school, studied in London, found work. Alfie and I stayed inseparable, our bond a rock against lifes storms. We grew up, started families of our own, but Sophieour mumwas never forgotten. Every Sunday, we gather at her place, where she cooks us roast dinners, her laughter mingling with our wives, whove become like sisters to her. Sometimes, watching her, I still cant believe the miracle she gave me.
Ill always be grateful to fate for my second mother. Without Sophie, Id have been lostwandering the streets or crushed under despairs weight. She was my light in the blackest night, and Ill never forget how she pulled me back from the edge.
