Happiness. An idea. A dream. But for you its common place a smile is on your face every day. You laugh too; you’ve leaned back your head and laughed till you cried. I didn't even know what it felt like to laugh; the only crying I knew was from fear and pain.
Happiness wasn’t the only thing that you have and I didn't. Soft carpets, painted walls, comfy sofas, cupboards of rainbow clothes, warm radiators and thick duvets were a dream for me not a reality. My one set of grey uniform never left my skin, my wobbly chair sat decaying in the corner along with a small table, my looming bunk-bed could have been an antique and I was sure the mattress had been salvaged from a tip, my cold concrete walls caged me in on all four sides, on my bed lay a thin holey blanket, I didn't have heating either.
But none of that really matter to me, I only wanted two things and one was only to make the other come true. I wanted to meet my family because I have been told how kind they are, the kindest people in all of Scotland and France and maybe even beyond. Well, apart from my Rich uncle who kept me like an animal in this lonely cell. Every day I was taken out to be inspected by him. It was so he could shatter my dreams and stop any happiness from reaching me.
When I was eight my last hope was torn apart by uncle during an inspection he told me it was nearly Christmas, not because he was going to give me a present, he just wanted to tell me I going to get no presents.
"Yes, I know I have written my letter to Santa." I smiled that last time I ever smiled. Then he slapped me all I had done was smile but I didn't cry because I was used to it by now.
“Santa is not real!” His voice was a yell but his body did not reflect it. Calmly he walked around me prodding me and pushing me. “Children’s mothers and fathers put the presents under the tree and you don’t have a Mum and Dad who care.” He said the words as if they were disgusting.
“I do.” I protested. “My family love me, my family care so, so, so much! They are the kindest people in the whole world.”
“No, they are not.” He muttered leaning towards me.
“You would say that.” I cried. His insults hardly ever made me cry but this made tears stream from the corners of my eyes. “Cause you are the devil.”
“I am not the devil.” My uncle very rarely showed his emotion but now he stormed to his seat.
I stepped back so that he couldn’t reach me from his seat. “You have to be because you are the meanest man or thing on earth!”
I stormed out of the room fighting with the stiff door.
All I had asked for that Christmas was happiness , that’s what I asked for every Christmas and that is my final wish.
