I didn’t go to school the day after I locked my mother in her room. That night, she slept soundly, and knowing that in the morning things would be very different, I took the chance to sleep too. I had done my research, and I knew the next day or two wouldn’t be easy on either of us.

But I had no idea just how bad it would get.

She started at five a.m. Dawn had arrived, the light was grey and pale yellow, and for a moment I ignored the banging and watched the world outside my window from my bed. Eventually she started to shout, and I dragged myself up and went to her door. The lock had held fast, and for that I was grateful.

‘You have to stay in there, Mum,’ I said. ‘It won’t be easy, but we need to get you off the drugs. You’ve got everything you need.’ I paused, and when she didn’t reply, I added, ‘It’s just for a couple of days.’

Silence fell on the other side of the door. I put my face close to it. I could hear her breathing, deep, heavy, dragging breaths.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Her voice was quiet, and there was humour in it, as though it was a joke that she didn’t quite get yet.

I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. ‘I’m serious,’ I said. ‘If you carry on taking that stuff, you’ll die.’

I wondered why I’d said those words. Because if I was honest, I didn’t fear or dread her death. In fact, if it happened, I would probably be better off. I would be moved to a foster home or a care facility, and people would look after me. They would cook my meals. They would wash my clothes. I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder for my mother’s men wanting me to pay her debts in kind.

But still, she was my mother. I had to try to help her get clean.

My mind wandered then, and I allowed myself to think about the possibility of having a real mum. One who took me to town on Saturdays, who watched movies with me and helped me with my homework. It was unimaginable. I couldn’t picture it in a thousand years.

A thump on the other side of the door made me jump. I scooted backwards.

‘You’ve got water in there, plenty of bottles, and some food,’ I said bravely.

Silence descended once more, and after a while I retreated to my room and burrowed back under the covers.

‘I’m going out the window!’

The bellow was so deep and raw that for a moment I thought Carl was in the house. But it wasn’t a man’s voice, it was my mother’s, and the change in her tone frightened me.