Kevin’s story: written by me.

Hi everyone, this story is a little idea I have been playing around with in my head since yesterday. It’s very different from my last story so would love to hear what you think.some of you might find it abit difficult so thank you for reading! πŸ˜‰

Kevin’s story.                                                   

I can’t feel my right arm. I look around at Mel and the kids. They are fast asleep. I don’t want to wake them when they look so peaceful. With all that’s been going on I’ve forgotten how quickly they seem to be growing up used to this. Adapting…I hate that word, but it’s true. My children, my two beautiful little boys are adapting to being homeless. How wrong is that? How in this world, in this time of life could they allow this to happen to not just a family. But to a family with two seven year old boys. A family that has been forced to live in the back of a beaten up old car in order to survive.

I shift slightly in my seat to try and get the feeling back in my arm and notice Mel stir. She slowly opens her eyes and gives me a half-hearted attempt at a smile. The love is there but it is clouded with the worry that has been eating us up for days. “Has your arm gone again?” She asks me. I quickly contemplate not telling her. She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need to know that the numbness has been getting worse. “No love” I whisper reassuringly “go back to sleep”. She smiles before closing her eyes. It is not long before she is back asleep. 

It’s the reason we’re in this mess…I am. It’s hereditary, I’m sure it is. But when I went to the hospital they told me I would have to pay the bill before I would get seen. That wouldn’t have been a problem if it had not been €250. Where would I have gotten that kind of money? So I put it off. Told the doctor’s I would come back next week….I never did. Not only because of the medical costs. We couldn’t afford the petrol to get there. Instead I tried to pretend everything was okay. I went to work. I picked the boys up from school on Tuesdays and Fridays. I helped Mel out with her book keeping. But then it got worse. 

It started with the twitching. I knocked a whole glass of water over my assigned computer at work. Without even realizing my hand was moving. Mack said I had to pay for the damages so I begged him to let me pay him back through overtime. He was kind enough to say yes and I let myself think everything would be fine. Two days later and my entire arm went limp during a conference with one of the businesses biggest traders. I dropped all of my papers on the floor. When I told Mack I couldnt feel my arm he dismissed me. Told me that I was lying and I was always looking for a way out of things.

That’s how they look at me now, when I sit on the street. Not all of them of course, but the majority. I hear them whisper to their kids “don’t look at that man. He’s probably an alcoholic…. A drug abuser…. I mean, why else would he be on the streets begging for money?”. Implanting beliefs into their child’s brains. I wish I could shout at them. I wish I could say “you don’t know anything! Do you think I want to sit here and make a fool of myself? I try my hardest everyday of my life and just because I’m sitting here doesn’t mean I’ve given up. It means I have a reason to live. I sit here and watch your stares and think of my wife and two sons. Fast asleep in the back of our beaten up old car. Peaceful but not at home. Not safe like they should be. Like they were before things got out of control”  

But I say none of these things. I sit there and watch your stares and remind myself that this takes more than the people who judge me could ever understand. No matter how good they feel about themselves. This takes guts. 

Thank you for reading! πŸ˜‰πŸ’— If you would like to read more HERE is the next chapter! I would love to know what you think of it! Have a great day!

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