Hi, my name is Nick Kingson. I live in the suburb of London city. I live in an institute for homeless people. I have been here for the last past nine years. I am now 17 years old. During my nine years in the institution, my best friend has been David Bryant. He is like me but his past has a tragedy storey. His mother was black and his father was white. During a shopping trip, his parents were stepped in the parking area by white youths. David was only three then and couldn't do anything. When I heard his storey, I couldn't stop my tears. The tears were like a riverbank waiting to burst.
Unlike him, my parents were with me until I was six. After that my father left my mum and went with another woman. As if that wasn't enough my mother died in a car accident. Later I found out that the accident occurred because she was drinking alcohol. I warned here about here addiction to alcohol and how it could get her into trouble, but she never listened. And know look where I am, a homeless teenager. The institute follows a strict rule like no television after ten, no smoking or drugs, etc.
