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is rather loud, so loud that even clamping his hands over his ears
won’t shut it out. They’re using complicated adult words so he doesn’t
really understand what they’re saying. He thinks that maybe they’re
arguing about the black lines he and his sister made. After all, as soon
as their father saw them, he glared and growled and screamed and
his breath smelled like beer. He understands that, at least. He
understands that when his father drinks he gets angry, unpredictable,
transforming into a terrifying monster that lurks in the shadows.
Even now, he can feel its breath on the back go his neck, dark, piercing
eyes watching his every move.
There’s a thumping on the stairs and his door flings open, and
blinding light from the hallway illuminates the room. He jumps and
gasps, quickly pulling the covers over his head, desperately trying to
form some sort of barrier between him and the outside world.
‘Grab some clothing, we’re leaving,’ a voice says. He realises that
it’s only his mother and looks up. Her eyes are red and raw and her
face is wet.
‘
Later, a small car will hurtle down an empty highway, lights
illuminating its path through the haze. Overhead, the sky is dark with
treacherous black clouds, and the rain is pelting down in a symphony
of almighty rage. A small boy presses himself against the window,
wipes condensation away from the window and gazes longingly at an
old weatherboard house up in the distance.
But the car drives further and further away, and the boy gives up
looking and stares down at his hands. Next to the boy, a girl slumps
across the seat, eyes closed, defeated.
A CD plays faintly in the background, and soft happy music with
no words washes over the car, whispering of happier times.
‘
‘We’re just going to stay with some of my friends for a while’, his
mother tells him.
He decides that he doesn’t like the city. He misses the feeling of
the cold morning breeze brushing through his hair. He misses his
room with his dinosaur stickers. He misses the creaky stairs and he
misses his warm bed.
This place is nothing like his home. The skyscrapers loom over
him, great and powerful and he finds that he feels pathetically small.
They are solid slabs of concrete cutting into the sky, surrounding
But Home Is
No More
9