Sammy

Sammy -as her mother likes to call her - left school five years ago with stars in her eyes and dreams of the West End.

Three years of college destroyed that dream, and the jumping between temporary retail jobs is starting to become comical.

I suppose that Sammy's goal of having a Ferrari before she was twenty-one is about to go up in flames. She is more focused on how to get herself out of this hell hole.

Learning how to legally castrate that two-timing stupid son of a whore would be a bonus.

The walk to her house from Ben's is only about five minutes, yet Sam's mind keeps replaying those warning signs again and again.

Its like her bother said, he's not bloody worth it.

She mutters under her breath as precession of cars and limousines whose drives past, they are definitively taking their time.

She gives them a cursory glance over when she spots a guy sat in the back of a limousine staring towards her

"What do fuck do you want?” She thinks to herself before losing the will to follow thorough with her hasty planned tirade.

News travels fast in this town. Sam walks into the back door of her house that leads into the kitchen and is greeted by her dad who opens up his arms,

Sammy is able release the tears that have been bottling up. After a few moments she begins register the smell of shepherds pie and that her dads does not have oversized palms but rather he's wearing oven mitts.

“Are you cooking?” Asks Sam with a slight laugh and a hint of optimism.

“Yep...And I don't need my mother to do it for me.”