Život

**Diary Entry** My mother, Eleanor, had been ill for a long time. Every day was a struggle for her, yet

“If the baby looks like himI’ll refuse… I’ll give it life and refuse!”

“If the baby looks like himI’ll refuse it… I’ll give it life and refuse it!”

THE QUIET BATTLE Charlotte lingered by the sitting room window a moment longer, cradling a cup of tea

Every afternoon after leaving secondary school, Thomas walked along the cobbled streets with his backpack

I found a baby under a birch tree and raised him as my own. But who could have guessed“

“Mums here for youget your things together.” Theres a common belief that every kid in a care

The social workers voice was firm but tired. *”Your mums come for you. Pack your things.”

“Your granddaughter’s here,” the voice announced. “Your mum’s come to pick

When your legs part so easily, taking responsibility seems impossiblebetter to abandon the child.