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Last day in the house

I am writing this to get it off my chest. I have lived in this house for years and grown up in this house. I knew something was wrong when daddy came home one day not too happy and I could smell the alcohol on his breath from a mile away. He staggered into our home, but I didn’t want to talk to him, so my sister and I left him to it and went to bed.

As I was about to fall into a deep sleep, I heard shouting and screaming and glasses being smashed and doors being slammed. I went to the stair case to have a look and to listen. I could hear my mother shouting about money she was shouting”,

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“our money it’s all gone you filthy drunk”.

I listened for a bit longer then I went back to bed.

The next morning I was woken up by my mother telling me to get dressed and pack my things because we were going on a trip.

I didn’t question why but got up showered and dressed and walked down stairs to see removal men in overalls taking our belongings and paintings out to a large removal carriage. I was curious to know was going on so I asked mummy.

I turned round to see my sister crying in the corner I asked her what she was crying for and she replied, “It’s gone everything gone”.

I stood in complete shock as I looked around and realised the rooms were empty of furniture.

I couldn’t see my father so I went searching for him and found him in the Library. He was standing by the window with a large glass of whiskey in his hand.

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When he saw me he said”,

“Sit down my dear son and have a drink with your father”.

I walked over to his desk and sat down and he poured me a glass he said do you know how to admire a glass of whiskey I said no he said hold your cup to the light and swirl it about then take a nice sip so that is what I did. As this was going on mother and sister and butler walked in with a camera man my mother said” let’s get one last picture in the old home”. So me and my father stood up and my mother sat on down and the picture got took. It was such a surreal moment I thought I would be in the house forever but no my father had to spend all the money and gamble the house.

As soon as that happened the men came in and started taking pictures and tables and chairs and glasses even my favourite seat I was so angry and so was my mother and sister. It hadn’t really sunk in that we would all be on the street the following week.

I couldn’t bear the thought of living with rats and other disgusting creatures.

My father wasn’t taking it through. He had drunk every last drop of the alcohol in the house. He advised us to put everything we owned on so that the men couldn’t take our belongings from us.

I ran upstairs and put on my favourite woolly coat and grabbed a couple of blankets. As I ran back downstairs I saw my father shouting at the men and my mother crying because they were trying to take our horse and if they took that then we had no way of making money. We pleaded and begged for them not to take it but they just wouldn’t change their minds.

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One week later the house was emptied and everything was gone; it was just an empty shell filled with memories and joy. The feeling of loss and sadness at leaving the home I had lived in and laughed and cried in was too much to cope with. I was overwhelmed what would happen now? The future looked bleak. It was such a surreal moment I thought I would be in the house forever.

My father had to spent all our money on gambling to the point where he had to sell the house which was the only thing left to pay his debts.

I have had to grow up fast and the only work I could find was in the local coal mine which my father had once owned. I felt humiliated to think that I was no longer respected as the boss’s son but just another man trying to make a living. I have not seen my father in about 4 month I wish my father had thought of us before he gambled everything then me my mum and sister wouldn’t have to work.

My mother has been working in the little dress shop on the outskirts of town and me and sister are in the coal mines. It’s a difficult time for us all but we are getting by day by we are living in a little two bedroom cottage in the slums. I thought that by 4 month I would get used to the smell but I still can’t it is disguising it smells like a farm on a hot day and disgusting body odour I can’t stand it any longer its revolting every day there is a fight about something silly. Like yesterday two men were fighting over some bread. I am not fit for this kind of life style I need a way out.

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