Forbidden Secrets

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Forbidden secrets

        ‘I was 8 and I already knew I hated my family. Ever since I could remember I knew they were keeping something from me. However small I might have been, families don’t usually keep secrets from one another. I’m 9 now and it’s as if I don’t exist. Even my twin brother knows about it; and they say I’m the most trustful one.

        My brother Sam had been locked in his bedroom yet again for forgetting to put the rubbish out in time for collection. He had great trouble doing this job, for the bin bag was the same size as him, if not bigger. Everyone else in this family would have had no trouble; we are all double his size. No one could understand why Sam was so different from the rest of us, I think we found him in a back alley but this makes me wonder why we look so much alike.

        As Sammy (he doesn’t like being called Sammy) stood there, tears welling up inside his eyes, a dirty white van pulled up outside our family’s semi-detached house in Marlborough Road. Clive stormed out of the house, rage boiling up inside him.

        “What are you doing here?” questioned Clive.

        “There’s a … um … a delivery for you,” replied a stocky, bald man.

        “I know what it is! What is it doing here?”

‘How did Clive know what that delivery was, and where it was meant to be?’ I wondered. Clive was my step-dad, and since the day we met, I’ve hated him since. Clive had stolen my mother from us and turned her against us.

        That weekend, my mind was running in circles, trying to think what it could be.  As I crept downstairs for breakfast, trying not to wake anyone, I heard people talking. Who was up that early? No one ever was. It was my mom and Clive, and they were arguing. It was probably about Sam. They only ever argued about him; but as I peered round the kitchen door, I figured it was a much worse than an average normal argument. I could see tears in my mother’s eyes, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I had a reason to hit Clive.

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        “My whole business could have been ruined!” Clive shouted. “There would have been no money for food or clothes. You would have had to work instead, because I would be banged up in some prison.”

        “I’m sorry. I don’t know how it happened.” stuttered mother

Why would Clive have been put in prison? I wouldn’t mind. It would be like Christmas had come early. A smile swept briefly across my face.

The door opened slightly and I fell into the kitchen in front of Clive.

        “What have you heard?” demanded Clive.

        “Nothing. I’ve only just come downstairs,” I replied quickly ...

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