I look outside the dirty glass window, I have a thumping headache, my mouth and throat feels like I have swallowed sandpaper.
The mother is sitting opposite me, as the train pulls into Flinders Street Station. I only call this one; the mother, to her face.
She gets called worse names behind her back, fucking old hag, is one of them.
I get the look from this old piece of shit; that look, meaning; do as I say, do as I tell you, because if you don’t, you know what I will do to you; when we get home.
This look from dead eyes; eyes that are not human; eyes that can only reflect this look and eyes as hard as stone; eyes desperately trying to hide the abject cruelty.
We get off the train and then need to walk around half of Melbourne’s CBD, up and down the fucking streets, as the mother will not pay for a tram; she’s already whinging about the bus, and train fares.
We walk to this building in Spring Street, its large and imposing with bright green glassed windows.
I hate this part of Melbourne; and this is the third and final time I am told I must do this; and this time to; do it right.
We walk into this formidable building, and this fucking old hag knows exactly where to go.
I follow behind, trying so hard not to swagger, or pass out. My head feels like it’s being torn apart, and the dry wretching doesn’t help my mouth or my throat.
I look for a water fountain, anything for some water; but I am looked back upon, with that same look. I stop looking for a sip of water.
I follow this stinking old mole. And stink this mouldy old piece of cheese; does.
I hate being seen with this, I hate being anywhere near this God awful stench.
This stench, that no amount of bathing, showering, swimming in the sea, or chlorinated swimming pools; ever cleanses, nor kills the rotten stench of death.
It is death itself, and all it does is kill, murder, and destroy anything good, in its path.
Yes; I hate this old hag, I despise this thing, it is not human.
I have watched what this thing does, for 17 years, and I have seen the destruction and utter despair that it does; to everything good.
The filthy slut, now speaks for me; I am not allowed to speak for myself. Not that I care today; not here, let the idiot speak, it only talks as a moron, stupid things is all this can say.
The drama queen is out; and everyone working on the ground floor of this building; is getting the full show, and mouthful.
I take a step backwards. I hate being even seen with this; thing. I will not stand beside this, this never-ending display of stupidity reigning supreme.
Even the workers here, tire from this public display. They point at the lifts, even they know that this thing already knows where it needs to go; as they are the same workers on today, the same ones as the two times before this.
I slowly follow from a distance, as this thing is now in its glee, parading itself in pomp and ceremony.
I get pushed into the large room, and I sit at an old student desk, with its seat. The exam is laid out in front of me, and a pencil.
I look around the room, there aren’t as many here today. I look up at the large electric wall clock, and I sigh.
I decide I will excel for the most part, but the very important part of this exam, I will fail, and I smile to myself, only.
Back at the old cheese’s house, as I have never called any house; home, I am ushered inside ahead of the filthy slut.
I walk into my bedroom, but of course it’s not really my bedroom. I am just a boarder, I pay well over half of my dole check, to the rotten old hag.
I am still so very thirsty, I knew I wouldn’t get anything to drink, and food, well let’s just say; never anything that’s normal, or good to eat.
I collapse on one of these beds, as it won’t matter which one I use, I will get disturbed, or I will told I’m in the wrong bed, whatever.
I had counted the amounts of pills that I was forced to take last night and this morning, just to keep me subdued and compliant to take today’s test… x-15; 5mg Valium and x-5; 25mg Mogadon, last night; and another x-5; 5mg Valium just before we left this shit house this morning.
My head is still throbbing, and back comes the shit faced mother with the vacuum cleaner, and orders me out of bed.
I am called ‘cinderella’. and now I must vacuum the whole house; yet again.
EDITED SUNDAY 29TH JUNE 2025
Green building; the end walls were clad in pale green ceramic tiles
Link for this building:
Wikipedia link for Spring Street:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spring_Street,_Melbourne
Wikipedia link for Old Parliarment House:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parliament_House,_Melbourne
This Living Story is continued in the PAGE: Seasons
