The Institution of Education

Introduction to self destruction

If you are reading this now I am dead. This was written in my deathbed as I succumbed to liver cancer. I couldn't have this story released when I'm alive or else the government will be after me to kill me and my family. This recollection of traumatic events happened in 1992, when I was 15 years of age, living on the dirty streets in back alleyways. When this story was finished it was June 20th 2067. I was in hospital on life support at this point.

My name is Ashley Harold Winn, and this is my story of how I survived the Institution of Education.

It all begun in 1992, 4 years after the Government set up the Institution of Education which people take in homeless people of any age and help give them an education and a qualification for GCSE. It sounded great and the public supported this idea, even me when I was  11 years of age. Until things got tough for my broken family and I ended up running away from the abuse in 1989. I ran away because my father and mother started becoming drug addicts, injecting themselves with heroin which led to them being so high they forgot and neglected me and my 5 year old brother. What was worse that made me want to run away was that when they were sober on heroin they would intoxicate themselves on alcohol which made them physically abusive. They woukd beat the shit out of me and my 5 year old brother by kicking and punching me repeatedly until me and my brother were unconscious. They would even cut us with sharp knives down our arms and legs and sometimes our faces.

To this day I have no idea they turned to an extreme life of drugs and booze but i know that no one else of the family would take me in as they didn't care about me or my sweet brother Marley- god knows what happened to that poor sod. I cry thinking about it.

I guess it was my luck I suppose to grow up in such a broken family who never gave a shit about me and Marley so I ran away and became homeless. Being homeless is such an easier lifestyle compared to the life I was used to in my broken 'home.'

Life on the streets didn't come easy but was sure easier than to endure the pain and neglect of the people who should have loved you unconditionally.

I begged for money to eat and drink. Its that simple. I was also fortunate enough to live in a town where people feel pity on you and are willing to spare change for you as I lived in the english town of Hertford. I was only beaten up three times in the three years I was homeless.

When the Institution of Education officials found me I thought my prayers of a hopeful future was to be bright and happy where I can put the awful dreadful past behind me.