The house

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Arriving back home sucked. Without my farther by side took I proper look at the house I've lived in all my life. The run down neighborhood was reflected with our boarded up windows and scruffy garden. The house from the outside made us look like drug dealers or well a gang house. I laughed quietly art  the thought of being in a gang. I remember when I was about 13 when a gang asked me to be part of there 'crew' as they put it. What ammatuers. I haven't seen them around in a while I heard that they had to  go into hiding beaus of a shoot out that went down across town. As I said ammatuers. I look at the place I will have to be paying the rent for and sigh. Not bad for £100 since its so rundown and the landlord doesn't bother to come and check up on us. I look at  around again and did a double take. The door. Its bust open. I grab the gun from my back pocket and go inside quietly. After checking each room I realise my house is destroyed. I'm not having this! The house has been rummaged through and all I can do is look longingly back on the memories of a safe house. That's the place I want to be but I can't be. I'm here in this house, in this time, doing my job. I have to some how figure out how to get a job and support this new life style. The house is not my dads responsibility its mine. I'll just take his job and figure out a way to get by. But can I kill people for a living even if my dad did, should I? I don't know but what I do know is that I have to survive.


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