Megan O'Brian was just 10 years old when she ran away from her home, 3 years later she is living on the streets of London

Life seemed easy for Megan as she would collect tins to sell so she had money for food, she had dreams of living in a loving home one day but that dream to her felt so unrealistic

One night after walking home, she stumbles across a drunk man who happens to be the famous Niall Horan from One Direction

That's when her life began to change
*Warning does contain strong language*


1. '13 and homeless, sounds great to me'

Megan’s POV                                       

“Fuck” I groaned out, I slowly peeled open my eyes and saw the same canal boat which would always honk the horn at very early in the morning. I suppose that’s what happens when you sleep under a bridge every night, there are bound to be early morning risers on a boat who love waking people up too.

I titled my head slightly and saw the smug look on the driver of the canal boats face as he knew he had woken me up.

“Tosser” I shouted at him, he threw his head back and chuckled. I have lovely taste in language at the age of 13.

13 and homeless, sounds great to me.

I took off the thin, green blanket which was just about keeping me warm on the cold nights which were starting to drew in, I hated this time of year.


I freeze my ass off during the night, it’s no wonder I haven’t died of hypothermia yet.

I just wanted to stay under this bridge all day but I knew I had to do my daily work otherwise, I’ll go hungry.

With a sigh, I ripped off the blanket which I immediately regretted as I sharp, cold wind hit my body. I reached over and put on the only coat I have ever owned on, it had a few buttons missing here and there and the material was beginning to waste away.

I have had this black coat since I ran away from home, which was 3 years ago. I ran away because my mum couldn’t care less, she drank every night and almost forgot about me. A foster home didn’t sound right for me so I packed what I could and just left.

I admit it was hard trying to be independent out in the city of London but I’ve gotten so used to taking care of myself, it’s easy.

I picked up my blanket and rolled it up into the smallest ball I could and placed it into one of my coats pocket. It looked like I had a lump coming out of my thigh but at least I had somewhere to put it.

I adjusted my green, woolly hat which was beginning to waste away and I set off for my day. Every day is the same really, I do my work: come back to the bridge, eat and then sleep. Then repeat the whole cycle again.

Life’s full of adventure for me right?

The bright lights hit my eyes as I emerged from under the bridge and into the city, I love London at night. That’s when it’s the prettiest when all the lights come on at night which lights up the whole of London.

I stumbled down the street, getting weird looks off of people as I was and did look like a tramp. I learned to ignore people and there opinions as they have no right to judge me. I’m old enough to defend for myself so I’m basically living an adult life.

But I can’t help but think at times what life would be like if I lived in a normal household, having a warm bed to sleep in at night, a fire burning in the living room filling the house with warmth, owning my own things like a mobile and having a loving mother and father who adore me to pieces.

It sounds unrealistic but I would trade anything to have a family like that, instead I’m living off the streets at 13 trying to work for my food.

As I pushed past a few businesses like people, I came down an alleyway in which I normally turn down. I kept walking till I reached the end which is where I saw David, the guy who gives me the money for my food. He was standing behind a wooden table which was beginning to rust away; he found it in a skip he told me one day. He dressed pretty much like me but smelled cleaner than me.

“Morning Megan” he cheerfully spoke, glad he was in a good mood than me. He still hadn’t shaved as his beard was growing longer, he had his green hat on today with old trousers and shirt as always.

“Morning” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. “Tins again today?”

“Yep, have fun kiddo” he joked, I half chuckled as I turned away from him. The deal was I would collect tins in which he would then trade in for money as tins were worth a lot these days. Fortunately the money’s good but it means I have to rummage through the rubbish yard. I always stink afterwards but if it means me getting an least a meal a day, I’d do it.

I walked out of the dark alleyway and back into the busy crowds of people, I turned around to try and find the direction I needed to go in. Once I did, I made my way through the crowd, squeezing in the gaps I could find as I was rather small for my age.

After that, I then took a short cut down another alleyway which led me to the rubbish yard, where pretty much everything in London is dumped. I could smell the horrid smell which immediately made me react by putting my hand over my nose.

The rubbish looked like it was full of rubbish for miles; I saw various diggers in the distance picking up large amounts of rubbish. Piles of rubbish were being stacked here. As I was small, no one would ever catch me here so it was easy collecting the tins I needed for David.

I kept my hand over my nose as I began to pick at the rubbish in front of me, desperately trying to find what I needed. Normally I would get lucky as I would find a can as soon as I got to the rubbish yard but today wasn’t my lucky day.

I was going to be here for ages.


Countless hours later, it was growing dark and I managed to find 15 cans in the day. My best has been 30 so I hope David was still in a good mood, I was disappointed that I couldn’t find more but it seemed impossible and it was getting dark.

I took myself out of the rubbish yard and began walking back to where David was based. I carried the tins in a plastic bin liner I had spare in my pocket, I dragged the tins across parts of London till I reached my destination.

Luckily David was still around which was a relief, sometimes he isn’t always there at the end of the day so I miss him.

“Your back” he smiled, I threw the tins onto his desk. He opened the bag and began to take out all the cans. “Not been a good day?”

“No, sorry” I said, looking down and twiddling my fingers together.

“Try better next time” he criticised me, I then heard him rummaging into his pocket. I looked up and saw him take a couple of coins out. “For yesterday’s work”

A smile grew on my face as David managed to sell my tins and I got £1.20 for it all.

“Thank you” I smiled, my mood suddenly changing from disappointed to happy.

“See you tomorrow bright and early. I don’t want my best tin collector to get behind” he laughed as it echoed the entire alleyway.

“Of course” I grinned, I waved goodbye to David and began walking out of the alleyway. I needed to get food soon as I could return to the shelter of the bridge to try and get warmer.

The market was always open at this time of night so I hurried along to get my food; I was craving for food as I hadn’t eaten all day.

The crowds had died down now as everyone had gone home to their warm houses, I remembered my fingerless gloves I had in my pocket. I quickly took them out as my hands were beginning to go numb. I slipped them on and soon felt my hands starting to warm up.

I reached the market place which was always looking magical. The lights filled the spare as it lit up; the bright colours were captivating to look at. There were a variety of sales were on. There was fruit and vegetable, clothes, bread, fish and finally my favourite stall – soup. I always got a warm soup when the nights were getting colder. I walked up to the counter and was greeted by the same lady who would always serve me.

“Hello Megan, same as usual” she kindly spoke to me.

“Yes please” I nodded, eagerly as I could smell the soup tickling my taste buds. She poured the creamy soup into a plastic cup before placing a lid on it. I handed her over all my money before carefully taking the soup from her.

“Thank you”

“You’re welcome, see you tomorrow” she smiled at me, waving as I began making my way back where my home was.

The one thing that scared me most about London was having to walk back to the bridge at night, it’s because I think I might get kidnapped or rapped. But it’s the pubs I have to walk past, there was always drunk people hanging around who were sometimes angry which scared me as my mum would get angry when she was drunk.

I kept my soup close to my chest as I was beginning to make my way past the pubs I had to past, I tried to block out the loud cheers of the many drunks which were outside the pub.

Having almost made it to the other side, a pub door suddenly burst opened and a man was throwing another man outside. I stopped in my tracks as I saw the man who looked clearly drunk was blocking my path way.

“Don’t come back here again” An angry man shouted out of the door, he then slammed the door shut and I was left looking at the distraught man on the floor who looked like he was going to cry.

I saw how he tried to stand up but he couldn’t, he placed his back on the floor and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. 

“OW” he suddenly yelped, I jumped with fright from his outburst. I could then see closely he had a gash on his forehead.

Feeling sorry for him, I slowly approached him as I knew he needed that gash attended to otherwise an infection could get in. I felt on the edge as I got closer to him but he didn’t look bothered. He was about to touch his gash again but I soon stopped him.

“No don’t touch it” I ordered him, he jumped slightly as it looked like I scared him. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my blanket, it was the only thing I had on me to put pressure on his cut. I pressed it slowly onto his head, he took a sharp breathe in then soon relaxed.

“Thanks” he said, looking into my eyes for the first time. I smiled sympathetically at him as I let him take over holding the blanket.

“No worries” I told him, I sank down onto the ground next to him and offered him some of my soup to help him sober up.

“You sure know what you’re doing” he chuckled, accepting my soup. He took a small sip before handing it back to me.

“I try” I cheekily replied, earning him to laugh.

“What’s your name?” he asked me.

“Megan, you?” I asked.

“Niall, Niall Horan”

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...