Don't Judge Me

I crouched down by mothers bed, handing her a fresh glass of water. Well what they call fresh. But I can see the germs and dirt swirming around the glass. Ready to catch there next victim. But I guess nothing could make mother more ill now. And nothing could cure her. Neither of us have slept in weeks. She has been coughing up blood and vomiting every night all night. I attend to her as much as I can but she worries I will catch it to. If that happens we will both surly die. No one else will be there to take care of us. It is just mother and I living in this dirty cuppord of a home. I stopped attending school a month ago. I just can't go. Mother needs me by her side every second of the hour. Besides the only thing I ever learnt at school was to pray to God. Which is all I'm doing now. Praying that everything will be alright, that mother will come over this illness. And that the bills will be paid. We've already had several knocks on the door from the landlord. If we don't pay them soon we'll be out on the streets. Father sometimes send us telegrams from Germany containing money. That's all we have. Sometimes I go out to what mother thinks is work. But really I have to steal. I have to. There's no job I could get in London. A 14 year girl wouldn't be accepted.Not in the war. I've tried for the nursery several times, but with my background they don't seem to think its a good idea. Somehow they know about my father. He's German. And he's on the Germans side. His side bombs our homes of London. We keep it a secret. But detailed records can get out.

At night I usually make a beds it for mother under the stairs. I can't rush around risking her being bombed. It's just to risky. Our street is surrounded by death, loss and cries. A boy Jonny who lived down the road mother was killed in a bombing last week. No one is safe. I'm lucky I've not been evacuated yet.