bang, bang [ziam]

where's the money?!

man this election got me mad depressed. sorry for a slow update.

song: psychotic girl - black keys

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l.p

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"liam! wake up!" i hear the tell tale sound of my sister, ruth, shouting from downstairs. the walls are so thin that i swear i can hear a pin drop, even amidst the craziness of my crowded household. but you learn to tune it out when you overhear conversations you really wish you hadn't, like my sister stressing about bills that we can't pay, or my drunken father and mother getting into screaming matches in the middle of the night. ruth and i started to realize at a terribly young age that it was either getting kicked out of our council flat to be put into foster care, or, start bringing money in, (no matter how) and try to stay afloat and not get separated from each other.

so i knew that voice of ruth's, it meant trouble, it was the 'oh, shit, we're fucked again' voice. sometimes i wonder why we even still bother doing anything really, we were just destined to live rough and barely catch a breath.

the house is awfully hot in the summer so when i'm rising from my bed, my body leaves a wet imprint of my body behind. there's a fan that is built into my wall which blows all the hot air from outside into my room, so it's pointless really. plus, it's a nuisance because due to it being an open vent, i can hear every single moron creating fuckery outside. the best thing to do to get through the summer while being too poor to afford the water bills for a cold shower was simply this: work somewhere with air conditioning. but none the less, it's hot as balls.

as i'm rushing down the stairs to see what's going on, i find a trail of booze leading to my mother's room, which just made me scoff and kick the glass to the side, knowing i'll have to clean up her mess later. as usual.

my sister and i are covered in a layer of sweat when i make it downstairs, despite being in light clothes. her golden hair is tied up on the top of her head that she has a hand tugging onto - a nervous habit of hers. she looks so exhausted and worn out, standing by the counter with her teeth sunken into her lip in a state. she barely looks at me when i slink closer to her and i wish i could say that panic wasn't a regular conditions for the both of us, but it was like this everyday.

we barely got by, even working countless jobs and trying to scheme through life in our shitty neighborhood. things were always going wrong, even if we tried our hardest to stay out of trouble. being poor was a curse, really, it seemed impossible to crawl out of it without getting your hands dirty.

i constantly wondered why ruth stuck around. i had a year until school finished and then i was free to divorce myself from my parents, even despite having no where to go. but ruth was already in her twenties. she was beautiful, smart, selfless (too much so), and resilient. she was the perfect girl in high school and had boys lining up to tie the knot with her. yet she stuck around, she says it was for me.

ruth knows i'd do the same for her, but i just hated the fact that she missed out on so many things. i know i'm not living a life of opportunity, but it's harder to watch someone you care about deeply go through it. i only want the absolute best for her.

"what happened?" i'm asking, trying not to sound worried for her sake. but the thing is, i don't even want to know. i wish i could still be that little boy who just glided through life like a lost maze, neglected and unaware as to why. it was easier being a naive kid, things seemed brighter.

ruth's eyes scatter to mine, the back of her hand wiping sweat off of her forehead along with squeezing her eyes shut.

"please tell me you know where this week's rent is." she forced the words out of her mouth and i'm moving towards her. trying not to feel that awful sunken feeling as our shoulders brush past.