Trades

8AM sharp I'm on the trades. Yesterday I made £800 and the day before I made £50, if I manage to keep those numbers going up I'll be a professional in no time. Imagine that: David Collins - Proffessional gambler. I watch the numbers on my screen and study them carefully. If I get this right I could possibly make £1000, or maybe even more. I never take my eyes off the screen, not even when Poppy comes running up to me shouting

"Dad, is breakfast ready?!"

 I stare at the screen still, studying and analysing every last detail.

"Dad, are you even listening to me?!"

I feel a tinge of anger fall upon me. She's 13 years old and yet she expects me to make breakfast for her?! Why is it up to me to do everything in this house?! I'm the one bringing all the money because my stupid wife doesn't have a job, and my entire family won't even let me do that. My parents say I should find a proper job, my wife tells me I should only gamble in small amounts, and Poppy tells me to be careful. None of them trust me. They all think I'm going to fail. Well, I'll show them. I'll be a millionaire and I'll be able to live in a big house and have a fancy garden and go on lots and lots of holidays and I won't feel ashamed when my friends come over and I'll have a nice car and nice clothes and a nice wife. 

"DAD?!"

"Oh Poppy, will you please shut up and let me concentrate?! This is important, if I get this right we might be able to afford a new TV."

"I think it's important that I get to school on time, and that I have breakfast. We don't need a new TV, we need food. Breakfast, Dad."

Oh the nerve of her. I could strangle her sometimes, I swear. She's so ungrateful. At least her brother supports me, he's the only one who does. He says people should follow their dreams. I think I've raised him well. 

 Poppy's walked off into the kitchen to go and get some socks out of the washing machine. Now I can focus. Or at least I try, but all I can think about is how everyone thinks I'm going to fail and how I'm going to prove them all wrong someday. Maybe today could be the day? I take one last look at the figures. That one. This was the one for me, the lucky one which was gonna make me a millionaire. I was going to place all my money on that one. Every last little bit of money I could find in my account, I felt a surge of adrenaline as I went to put it on the trade, but I closed my eyes and I clicked quickly before I had a chance to change my mind and I slam the lid of my laptop down.

 I didn't want to look at it again until the results came in. I couldn't handle it. But what could I do to take my mind off things? What do I normally do in a morning? Ah, breakfast, I was supposed to be making breakfast for Poppy. Oh no, she's halfway out the door now. I run to the kitchen, open the fridge, and grab the first thing I see and go running after her. She's halfway down the garden path, I shout at her,

"Poppy wait, you can't go to school, you've not had breakfast!"

"It's too late now, I'm running late as it is, I don't have time for breakfast now."

"But Poppy, breakfast is important, you must have something to eat, you can't go hungry, here, take this."

I throw something at her. I hadn't really had time to think about what it was, I just knew she needed to eat something. She tries to catch but fails and she does an overdramatised squeal as it hits her shoulder.

"Owwwww Daaaaaaad, what was that?!"

That's got Poppy written all over it, trying to make me feel guilty for something as small as throwing something at her. She spins around looking for whatever it was I had thrown. She picks it up, totally bemused.

"A block of cheese?! You gotta be kidding, right?!" She throws it back. "I'm off to school."

I try shouting her back but she's walking down the lane and eventually she's out of sight. You ungrateful little sod  I think to myself as I walk back inside. I turn face to face with my laptop and the anxiety hits me like a ton of bricks. I put it away. I'm not going to look at it again until the end of the day when the results come back in. 

Several long hours later I return home from Ella's house. I'm still rather liberated from spending the day with Ella, but as soon as I get to the door all that fades and soakes into fear. 

I step into the threshold and lock the door behind me checking the lock five or so times to make sure it's definitely locked properly. Then I take out my laptop and lift the lid. It instantly whirs into life, I type in my password spelling it out inside my head as I go E L L A 1 2 3  and then I press enter and I hold my breath and and... I've lost. Everything. The room around me starts spinning as I try to comprehend what's just happened. All my money is gone. All my money is gone. All my money is... I can't handle it and I start to shout some things that I don't think I should repeat, and I ran upstairs and I layed on the bed and I did something I hadn't done in years.... I cried.