My father had us imprisoned in our house. We could only leave to either take me to school, or to take my mother to work.

Then he would collect us. Sometimes he would take me to the shops for the weekly shopping. And doctors appointments. Always watched. Always monitored. A prison.

A few years before she passed away, my mother convinced him to let her take me to see her doctor. And he allowed us to leave the house together, just us two.

She would tell me to go and visit my friends, then we would meet back up and return home. As though we had been together the whole day.

Sometimes she’s in my dreams. I love and hate those dreams.