Dylan perches on the edge of the bottom bunk bed, contemplating his life, such as it currently is. He has his treasured Harry Potter duvet wrapped round his tiny shoulders; his elbows are on his knees and his head rests dejectedly in his hands. Staring down at his Mum’s beige washing up bowl, the smell of pine disinfectant makes him feel even more nauseous. With his older brother at school, he could theoretically enjoy their shared bedroom in peace and get to choose what he wants to play with for once.
What bad luck, he thinks. Life is very unfair. I really am being punished.
Last night he missed his favourite tea: sausages and mash, with thick gravy. Instead, his Mum gave him boring old white toast with an almost invisible scraping of margarine on it. And he had lain awake all night with a sore belly. Life, indeed, Dylan thinks, is very unfair………
(to be continued)
© Vicky Newham 2012. All rights reserved.