Nothing changed since I was gone for a week.  It began to rain and from then on, I knew that I was back in Ravensbury. The sign wasn’t visible like always, but it would always rain when you would enter. I arrived back home, and my neighbour helped me into my wheelchair and pushed me carefully towards my front door. My house looked surprisingly different.

Tidier and less depressing but repetitive.  She knocked on the door many times but no answer. I stayed at her house to finish my recovery. Where did my mother go? I would peek out of the window every night and the lights never went on.

Days passed by and still the house was without activity. But the next day, the postman arrived at my house. A man with silky black hair opened the door to take the parcel only to close the door again. I know that man, Daryll. I managed to stand up from being confined to my chair and I went to confront him. I stood from a distance, threw a minuscule pebble at his window and hid behind a bush.

He opened the door and shouted, “Whoever you are, show yourself or I will report you to the police.” I came out from behind the bush, and he pointed at me. “Yes Daryll, it’s me,” I replied.  He hugged me with the strength of a caveman, and I saw my mum cooking in the kitchen, and she hugged me and stroked my hair hoping that I felt better. With a stern voice, Daryll pleaded, “Please call me Dad and not Daryll.”

My mum had changed, and she wasn’t drunk from the red wine, unlike most nights. Daryll, probably helped her get out of the hole that she always dug herself in.  I felt like my parents had changed way beyond my understanding. But I still knew that this was a façade waiting to break away again like always. It’s like I never went to the hospital at all. Daryll must go. My mother changed into somebody that I didn’t know anymore.

Thanks a lot, Daryll. Later, I caught him calling somebody and I listened through the walls and yes, he was cheating again. My mum will probably do what she always does and just throw Daryll's things onto the front porch and let him find his way. Unlike most of my parents fights, my dad would always return sneakily even though he was unwanted.