Something That I Wrote

Well, I actually typed it but you get the idea. I'm trying to write a book and I hope one day this will be my first. I don't know how long it'll take to get it published so have a read through :)

Here's some music while you do...


Have you ever felt the overwhelming need to survive? Have you ever been completely helpless and unable to do anything? Do you have the right to decide, to make choices?
You don’t. Probably not. Yes, you have already decided what you want to do with your life, or you’re still thinking about it.
The only right I have is to say ‘Yes’.
I am a robot, programmed to say that dreaded word. No is not in my dictionary.

I am Caleb Fisher.

It was 12 am, 30th December 2000, London. I was with Ryan, my little brother. The only one I lived for. I don’t know about my parents, me and Ryan were both kidnapped four years ago, when my parents were out. Today was Ryan’s birthday but we had no time to celebrate. Or money. Or food. We basically had nothing except for the clothes on our backs. But I had my pride.
Ryan was the cutest little brother anyone could ever wish for. He had brown hair and big brown puppy dog eyes. He was shy, short and loved by every girl we met. And most of all he made money.
We were kidnapped by a gang called the ‘Gangsters.’ I know such imagination. Anyway, they made kids beg or sell stuff they sold to make money. They didn’t like getting their hands dirty but they’d hit us if we didn’t make ₤5 a day. Some of the older kids picked pockets but they got caught almost every week. I didn’t Ryan to do that when he was older so I taught him how to juggle and I could do some magic tricks. We normally did that but on some days, people wouldn’t give you any attention.
Like Christmas Eve. Then we kids had to resort to drastic measures. Every year Ryan would sit somewhere and wrap himself up in thick blankets and get a bit of money from begging. Then, I’d tell him I’d do some tricks on the streets.

Of course, that was a complete lie.

I am a good liar, you see. Even lying to Ryan, who knew everything about me couldn’t tell when I was lying out of my teeth.

The ‘Gangsters’ boss was Billy Z. So we just called him Z. Or Boss if he was angry. Z liked me, or so he said. Every year, on Christmas Eve he’d give me a package and send me on my way. I’d walk to a different place every time, wherever it said on the package. I’d walk and walk and finally get there.
This time, I was in an abandoned house, a short and fat gingered haired man was waiting for me. He was wearing a black suit and a v neck shirt that did him no favors. I didn’t bother to tell him. He also smelt of alcohol and smoke. Typically, he had a big pipe in his mouth.
But forget him. What I really cared about was the package and what was in it. But if I opened it Z had promised Ryan would never look the same. Not with a broken nose and black eye, he assured me. So I let my worries of the package fade inside. It would be gone from life in less than a minute.
I gave it to the ginger fat dude and said, “From Z, he says to tell you that the plan is in place and the money will be ready soon. When you’re out of London, open the box. I will have the money 1 week from now.’”
“I see,” the man said in a deep voice, “Will he send me the money or will I have to come and get it myself?”
I gulped, mostly Z’s allies didn’t ask me questions and let me go, “Um, he didn’t say but I guess it must say in the box.”
“I see.” He repeated and eyed the box carefully before turning around quickly and leaving me standing alone.
I sighed with relief as I heard him drive away.
Men like them scared me. But they scared Ryan even more.

It was 2pm when I got back to base; I’d always tell Z what happened before I went to Ryan. As much as I hated letting Ryan wait, letting Z wait was dangerous.
The ‘Gangsters’ base was in an unused train station in the back streets of London, where the shamed and lost gather like dirt under the sofa.
There were kids smoking and drinking, a few gambling and placing bets on fights. We gave ₤5 to Z each and the rest was ours. Sometimes we bought food and clothes but Z mainly gave us them when we asked and we were chased out of shop because we were so dirty. We didn’t do much.
If we insulted Z or his ‘mates’ who sometimes came he wouldn’t give us food for 2 days and he’d take all our money so we couldn’t buy some.
Life was even harder if you were a girl. Z sold off the girls when they turned 16 or those who looked 16, anyway… I didn’t want to know what happened to them.

I found Z in the toilets smoking his heart out. At least he wasn’t drunk. He looked pretty calm, anyway.
“I’ve delivered the package, Z” I told him.
He tapped his fag into the sink and said, “Good. Did yer see what was in the box?”
“No, Z”
“Good,” he reached into his pocket and took out a few notes and gave them to me, “Go get some food for yer and tha’ little bro o’ yers. Yer a good boy, Caleb, oh, yes, a good boy.”
Z freaked me out sometimes, “Thank you, Z.”
“You’ll be a good man one day!” he shouted as I walked out the door, his laugh echoing through the train station.
As I left, no kid met my eyes. They stayed away from anyone who was close to Z. I couldn’t blame them. I’d do the same.
I clutched the money tightly in my hand, it was all worth it. If I died, it was fine. As long as died for my brother. Z’s words echoed through my mind, like he was mocking me. Did he know my secret? No. He couldn’t know. No one knew. Not even Ryan.
I walked past a shop window and saw my reflection. I was no cute boy, not like Ryan. I kept Ryan clean but I had no time for myself. I was scruffy, my clothes tattered and hair like it had been through a bush. I didn’t have Ryan’s eyes either. My eyes were a dark green, my hair was black and I was tall for my age. I was a seven year old ‘boy’. I grinned, if I didn’t know better, I’d think my reflection was a ‘boy’. I was no boy. But no one knew, I wanted to keep it that way.

That's just the first bit, I'll put up the next tomorrow maybe... I hope you liked it :)