Jason Davenport

I sat on a bench outside a small supermarket. It was my second night sleeping in the streets. To me it still felt like a dream. I'd gotten angry, cried, begged my mother for forgiveness, but still nothing.

The tiny hope I'd harbored that Dad would come looking for me has dissipated. And now I was completely hopeless, helpless. I had nowhere to go, no one to talk to.

No one in town wanted to employ me because "my family acted like we owned the world".

I'd never felt so tired in my entire life. And deep down I knew it was all my fault. Who do I...