No.307

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*THIS STORY ISN'T REAL

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It's hard to sleep at night, sharing a double bed with my brother, no.662 and my sister, no.730. This tiny room can only hold 3. My father, no.209 has to sleep on the table in the other room. My mother died 3 weeks ago, just before the council took possession of our old home. She died of cancer, we couldn't afford the bill, the new law demolished the NHS(National Health Service) meaning any trips to the doctors or the hospital; will cost and with my dad losing his job because of new technology, the only income this family has is my low paid job; I work in a pub cleaning dishes. My dad did work in a toothpaste factory but was made redundant. I sigh, sitting up I look to the clock on the wall; 6:30am. I scurry to the end of the bed not wanting to wake either sibling. I walk into the other room and notice my dad still asleep on the table, my feet pad across the uneven tiles towards the sink, I reach up into the open cupboard grabbing a clean glass. I turn the tap letting it run before I fill my glass. I place the glass down on the side; shutting off the tap, I wait for the water to change from mucky yellow to clear which takes it's time. Finally being able to drink the water safely; I take many gulps, with finishing my water, I clean the glass placing it back in the cupboard.

Walking back into the bedroom; I pick up my everyday clothes; black straight jeans with a plain black top, I squeeze on my cheap, tacky, worn out trainers from the local traders. The wind hits me with speed as I stepped out of the dirt covered doorway, I pull at the door; trying my hardest not to wake anyone as I close it. I bounce down the street as if I had somewhere to go, I place my left hand into my pocket feeling for money, I close my hand full of loose money pulling it out of my pocket to check how much I have £2:46, enough to buy the essentials. Looking down at my shoes, I don't care about the rich snobs of this society, I care about my family and ever since my mum died, my dad sent himself to quarantine. He shut himself off, barely saying hello to his three kids on a morning. I arrive at the deserted side of town; licking my chapped lips, I turn into the local shop. I found this place with my sister, we were running away from one of the posh kids who had threatened to get us imprisoned for man handling; she only pushed the kid over for stealing her doll mother got her. Pushing the door, I slip through making my way to the isle where the milk and bread is kept. Making my way down to the till, I stand there for a few seconds before the door dings and another customer walks in head down. I look back towards the till and there is a smiling old lady. I breathe out placing my items down on the counter, I keep my head down low waiting for her to call out the price.

"£2.50 chick." I raise my head to look at the lady. My throat dries as I over look the options which lay ahead. Either I run, or I leave the food. I grab the white plastic bag of goods the lady bagged and drop the change onto the counter and exit the shop faster than the lady could count the incorrect money. Pacing down the street, I take the short cuts not wanting to get caught. reach the top of my street puffing out deep breaths. I look around me to see an empty street, I carry on down the street slowly until I reach my front door. I push the door open stepping inside the badly lit corridor pushing the door closed behind me. I carry the milk and bread into the kitchen and notice my father has woke up. Placing the milk and bread down on the counter I pick up my fathers self made bed and neatly place it in the cupboard where the boiler is. Walking out the room I go to check on the kids but my steps are slowed when I hear a small cry coming from their room. As I approach their room I notice my father sat at the foot of the bed watching his children sleep innocently. I sigh walking over to him placing my hand on his shoulder he jumps looking up at me he places his hand over mine and with his dark blue eyes now glassy and red, I have to look away to keep myself from crying. It's always been said that my sister looks the double of mother which repels my father far away from her which is upsetting to watch since we were such a close-nit family. He shakes his head causing tears to fall from his eyes, I remove my hand before he stands up and storms out the room. I sit down where father once sat only a few moment ago, my brother stirs in his sleep before slowly peeling his eyes open to the world. Smiling down at him I run my fingers through his hair and away from his face,

"What you wanting for breakfast this morning big lad?" I whisper gentle, not wanting to wake my sister. With a hmm he moves back the covers, swinging his legs to the side of the bed he jumps off grabbing my hand and drags me with him to the kitchen with a smile. When we reach the kitchen he lets go of my hand and takes a seat at the table which was once my fathers bed.

"Well?" I turn around leaning on the bench with a raised brow. He places his index finger on his chin, thinking, he finally answers, bran flakes. While I prepare his breakfast in the corner of my eye I see him swinging his legs back and forth between the chair legs waiting for his breaking to be served. Placing the bowl down in front of him he thanks me and I walk off to find my sister still fast asleep.

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The rest of the morning goes on swiftly yet boring as all I seem to do now is sit and wait for the time to come to start work. It's now 4:30 and I have half an hour before my 6 hour shift starts, normally I don't like leaving on a night because of my family but today I just want an excuse to leave this house. There's only so much one person can take of staring at the same four blank walls and the noise of your sister faintly singing out of tune the wrong lyrics to the right song. I leave the house it's now 4:45 the pub I work for is only a few streets away from where I live meaning it won't take longer than 10 minutes but my boss isn't a man I'd like to mess with so I make sure every day I get there five minutes earlier. I turn the corner and the pub is there in all glory, I smile to myself as I push the stiff badly painted door entering the half empty pub I make my way to the back room removing my hat running my fingers threw my short hair, It's only just beginning to grow back. I hate how corrupt this government is and how they have so much control over citizens, you wouldn't think it but I'm getting watched right now, there's a small camera in the right hand corner of this room, the camera is owned by the council and it's against the law to not have the council place multiple cameras in public places. What sickens me the most is the placement of a camera in each cubical in the bathroom. They say it's to put a stop to overdosing and drug use but all I see is a dirty image of an over weight pervert sat behind the screen watching thousands of innocent people come and go getting off on the only bit of privacy wanted but now unfortunately not granted. 

I walk out front standing behind the counter I plaster a smile on my face to great customers. My first customer passes over his token and I smile scanning it under the recognition machine, his number pops up "198" I look up at the man asking what he would like to drink, after he tells me his order i punch it into the machine. As I was saying before, this government is corrupt, needing to keep record of how much someone drinks, there is a limit of 4 pints a week. I hand over his token before I prepare his drink. Today the pub started off calm with a light buzz of conversation and I already can't wait to leave when a bunch of rich folks barge in with smirks plastered from ear to ear.