Berichten

Ok, so has anyone experienced nagging and obsessive parents? Well I bet your experiences are no where near the extent of mine.

My name is Lilly Evergold; I live in the uneventful village of Berichten in America. I was born in England in 1995 and at the age of 9 when my mother passed away my father upped and moved us to well here, but at the time there was no here. Here was an empty desolate area, big enough for the basis of a town to be built, close enough to the rest of the world to ensure that necessities could be received, but far enough so that when ready contact outside cod be cut of almost completely.

Right, you have no idea what I am rambling on about. Basically my dad created a village, where I was brought up to be perfect. His plans however did not just stop at me. Berichten is currently home to 300 families, with a two year waiting list on the 500 homes soon to be built.

All of those teenagers perfect and answering their abnormally perfect parents every whim. How on earth do you get a perfect town I hear you say? Well I am the only person in the village who knows the secret, except for my father that is, but he has no clue that I hold the key to his perfect town and know exactly what is happening.

As the sun shines down through my locked window, my eyes flicker to the posters on my wall. They remind me of the reason I must not give in. 2 large posters both with mathematics on, what teenager has such a distasteful and bland image spread so mightily across their bedroom wall? I know I should be grateful that I actually get posters, because my dad "treats" me. He runs the place, so sometimes a get what he calls "little extras" otherwise known to the world as boring junk. The alarm next to me sounds, with a sweet soothing rhythm, one I must not hear I must drown out and ignore. I slowly raise my feet from by beige duvet and lower them softly to the harshly cold wooden floor beneath them. I stand and slowly stride to the door, willing to escape from the prison that is my room, only upon opening the prison gate to find a larger prison outside.

The creaking stairs sound, the fifth step, then the second and the last. I have counted the squeaks numerous times, so that if I am every required to escape my father would not hear. The stairs always wake him, and his mood is always bad towards the noise, but if I didn't step on every stair, then my father would realise something was goo. "a good child steps one stair at a time", the ringing in my ears takes little affect unless I let it, this time I let it slip in and work, so that I do not slip up and forget to step. The kitchen enters my vision and I wonder what I will make for breakfast today, dry toast or cereal (muesli). My question is answered by the rota on the wall informing me that today is toast day.

I wait for a while knowing that my father will arrive in three... two... one. "Just a bit of apple juice from me please Lilly", he says in the patronising voice I have had to listen to for so many years now. Of course I won't put too much, you would know the truth then and I would be destroyed. With a small splash of apple hitting the bottom of the cold glass I stop and turn towards him, I look at the ugly, fat man sitting before me with his glasses placed disgustingly at the end of his large nose. How could she have ever loved this man, how could anyone?

I place down the two plates and cup and hand him the apple juice to which he draws a line marking the amount used, to ensure that I do not consume anymore of the "delight". I slowly munch at the dry bread filling my mouth and mind. A swig of the apple and I stand and take away my plate. I walk over to him and reluctantly place a kiss on his cheek and without a single word from him a walk out of the door.

The cold air hits my face like a mosquito to a lamp. I pull my coat tighter and spread the dishonest and fake smile wide across my face. The perfect pretence begins again...