The Doctor Will See You Now

Meet Us

It's always been the same. Get up, get ready, get to school, get to bed. School is nothing new. No one is ever sick so we never have substitutes. You never meet anyone new. Anger or violence is strictly forbidden.

You get punished if you feel these.

I learned the hard way.

The creaking of the stairs is my signal to pretend I've been up for a while. When mum walks in, she likes to check what I'm doing. She always thinks I've just laid out my clothes on my bed, ready to wash. I always fold them neatly late at night when I know everyone else is asleep. Those moments just before you're forced to get up are precious. They are the only times I ever get to feel content, relaxed.

Mum expects me to bewake by 6 o'clock, washed by 6:15 and fully prepared by half past. Half an hour is spent taking care of my baby brother, Ben, since mum hasn't the brain nor skills to even feed him properly.

Ben is my world. I love how he gurgles when I tickle him or giggles when I rock him in the old armchair. The best moments are when I can really look at him. When I can really be with him. When he stops the rest of the world and wraps his tiny fingers around one of mine. I survey his tiny body, counting each and every wrinkle and inspecting his fragile little limbs. The poor thing is so alone during the day that he would snap if you held him the wrong way. But I know him. I know what he likes and what he hates. We both hate mum, that's for sure.

Just because violence is forbidden doesn't mean people can't hide it. Mum has always been a drinker. I don't even know why alcohol exists! It has never done anyone any good, especially not her. Mum hasn't many friends  which obviously makes her feel worse about herself. Part of me feels sorry for her. She's starved herself, over-fed herself, eaten nothing but honey and more malarkey! Because she hadn't any friends to talk to, she screams her problems while shattering her Bourbon bottle on my head over and over. No one had ever loved her, not even Grandma or Granddad. No matter how much they tried, they ended up working themselves silly and spending it all on that slag. She would always ask for more. If she could, she would strip them of their wealth completely and let them starve while she enjoyed her meals and nice warm bed. Nothing is ever enough for her.

For mum, it's always been hard. No friends, no love. No love, low self esteem. Low self esteem, anxiety, depression, violence and abuse.

The thought of her touching little Ben makes me shiver. I even bring him to school every Monday. That's when her usual boss works, and when it's a heavy drinkers' Monday, that bit of shouting is that little cherry on top. It gets way too dangerous around mum when she gets back on a Monday, even for me. I take all the blows. There's no point going to the police about Mum - I've tried so many times. I don't really want to emphasise on what happens, but mum's a brilliant actor with all her "he wants me dead! I know it!" And "Please, he's found a drink from some shady people," malarkey. I won't even get started on what happens behind closed doors when they leave. You'd think they might listen for a minute after so many complaints, but no. That's not how it works here.