I spy // Phan

2

Phil

I'm still alone, always alone.

It's been 3 years since I left.

That children's home was pure torture for me.

I had very little friends and the few I did have were adopted.

But no one wanted me.

No one wanted the troubled child, The child that woke up every night screaming.

I'm trying, I really am, But I just can't cope, My flat is dark and small, My clothes lay on the floor by the worn down coffee table and my bed squeaks every time I sit on it.

Ive tried to get a job, But no one will accept me, who would want a kid, barely out of school, that grew up in an orphanage and got shit grades anyway?

I found somewhere to think, A bench, It's near a school, It's nice to sit there as the cold nips at me and I breathe in the fresh air, clearing my mind.

I look at the teenagers walking into school, bags slumped over their shoulders and friends sorrounding them, they look so care free, they're laughing and kicking balls around.

Then there's this one kid, I see him every day, he looks so sad and tired, his brown hair is always sticking up in the wrong places and I can see the scared look on his face.

I never go to talk to him but I feel connected to him, like I have something to do with him, like we should know each other.

He walks through the gates, I see somebody point at him, they are laughing, I feel sorry for him but I know I shouldn't do anything.

I hear a faint buzzing sound and look down at my phone, I have a reminder set for bills, I don't know how I'm going to get £300 by the end of the week, I struggle every month with it.

I sigh, putting my phone away and stand up, stuffing my hands in my pockets and walking away quickly, I need to scrape up enough money to pay for the flat.

I open the worn down door and breathe in the damp smell, coughing slightly.

The coffee table is littered with mugs and a few plates and the floor is sticky from coffee I forgot to clean up after I spilled it last night.

My wallet is on the sofa, not much in it except a five pound note and my bank card, I take it and head for the door, walking down the road to the bank.

I stick the card into the machine and check my balance, £10.24, not enough to even pay a week.

I sigh, looking in the bank window and pushing the door open.

It's not the first time I've been here for this reason and it won't be the last.

I wait in line, behind a woman tending to her screaming baby, she looks sick, the bags under her eyes are dark and quite big, she blocks her face to cough violently, the baby still in her other hand, Some people give her a dirty look when they pass her, I hear some people whisper things like, "she's no mother, she can't even look after herself", and , "That baby should be taken away".

I sigh at these comments, the pure stupidity of these people kills me, they do not understand the fact that the baby is probably better of with its mother rather than a care home where it gets bullied and treated terribly.

I look down at my hands, fiddling with them and then finally taking my wallet out of my back pocket and take the £5 note out.

I tap her on her shoulder and she jumps a little, looking behind her.

"Um..hi, I-"

"I'm sorry about my baby, shes sick, she can't help but cry", she pleads.

"No, No, I just, here's  five pound, it's all I have, you need it more than me"

"No, you're young, you need it"

"Please I insist, it won't be enough but for now, with the loan it will help at least a bit, I'm sure"

"Thank you, thank you so much",she says, taking the note slowly and giving me a small hug.

___

I sit in the office, fiddling with my fingers, my foot tapping without me telling it to.

"How much this time, sir?"

"One thousand"

(A/N: what did you think of this chapter, it was kinda hard to write, it took a couple days, Dan and Phil are only a year apart in this story but Phil is already out of school)