It was one of those days again. Your father got into an argument with your mother and when it got too heated your mum left, angered and in need of an outlet your father turned to you.

Your dad was never a very good guy. He didn't like taking care of you when you were small, and when he picked up the habit of drinking it all went downhill. He started to hit you and beat you until he was satisfied. Then he'd kick you out overnight.

You spent your last few pounds to leave by bus, only able to go as far as a town named broadchurch. Now here you were, sitting at the bus stop, with barely anything on you. Your body still ached from your fathers hits.

"Oi, what're you doing out here?", Called a gruff voice. You could make out a police man coming toward you.