Standingat her kitchen window preparing a bottle of formula for her toddler, Hollie Rizzotto was hit in the face with a gust of marijuana smoke.
It was coming from a nearby unit. The smoke was so strong, she couldn't stop coughing.
"It was so thick, I could see it coming straight through my window," she said. "After I stopped coughing, I threw the entire bottle of formula in the bin. I was scared it would be contaminated and there was no way I was giving it to my daughter."
Later that evening, standing at the same window, the young mum looked down to see other neighbours and their friends shooting up in the car park below.
It's one of the drug addicts' favourite haunts - the patch of grass is more secluded than the main forecourt of the Todd Street housing complex. A discarded, upturned shopping trolley provides a handy step and a quick getaway over the cement wall in case the police arrive with their dogs.
"The police are always here," she said. "But it doesn't stop them. I've seen them shoot up in their legs, arms and neck."
In the mornings, there are often used syringes outside on the grass and in the stairwell.
The fear her daughter will one day step on a discarded syringe prevents her from allowing the toddler to walk outside the unit.
While carrying her daughter, Ms Rizzotto has witnessed a prostitute, almost naked, urinate on the grass outside and another woman urinate among filth and rubbish on the units' shared, upstairs verandah.
"I once stepped in a puddle of urine on the stairs outside my unit," she said in disgust.
The former Telstra call centre worker was forced into public housing due to the high cost of private rental properties.
A single mum, she had been on the waiting list only a short while when she was offered the Todd Street unit.
"I walked in and I couldn't believe how nice it was inside," she said. "It had new carpet, new kitchen and bathroom and had recently been painted. I couldn't fault it, so I agreed to take it straight away. I had no idea of the problems here."
She is now desperate to get out.
A counsellor who has inspected Ms Rizzotto's living conditions, has advocated for a speedy transfer, writing in a report: "It is clear it's not a suitable environment to be raising a young child and the threats to Hollie and her daughter's safety are real and immediate."
However, on November 1, Housing NSW rejected the application, stating Ms Rizzotto had yet to provide a medical report and had not yet taken attempts to address the matter herself.
But Ms Rizzotto said she was reluctant to make a formal complaint to police because she feared for her safety.
Her concerns escalated following a home invasion next door, in which an armed man kicked down the front door. Also, in a downstairs unit, a menacing poster reads: "We don't call 911". A constant reminder that she and her daughter may be in danger.
So each night, the 22-year-old lies in bed, her 17-month-old daughter by her side, and tries to shut out the screams coming from a nearby tenant being beaten up by her partner.
Then there is the heroin addict who lives upstairs, who screams in pain for hours when he has no money to buy drugs.
"One day he screamed from 9am to 4.30pm," she said.
During the day, most of the drug addicts are asleep. But, come twilight, chaos rules, in what has become a ghetto and a living hell for other residents.
"I don't know how the department can think that this is an OK place for young children to grow up in," she said.
Housing NSW was contacted for comment but was unable to reply due to time restraints.