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T.H.O.R Stories: Desperate

It’s dark when I wake up, with an empty bottle of red wine in my hand, ever since I lost the debate, I have found solace in the bottom of bottles. I didn’t have a preference as long as it’s the ability to make me forget that years of me scrapping to the top had vanished overnight. I would laugh if it didn’t feel like my brain was being repeatedly thrown against a brick wall. I look at my phone the notifications are littered with news alerts regarding the riots that have broken out all over the city in my name. A total of four people have died. I don’t know whether I should be disgusted or relived that there are people willing to fight for all the things that I believed in…the right things. ​

I roll of the sofa falling not so elegantly onto the floor – my hand landing in the remains of my chicken chow-mien. I pull myself up and make my way into the kitchen, I run some water and drink straight from the tap. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Opening the fridge I grab another bottle of wine and some left over cheesecake that may or may not have passed it’s expiration date. I go back to my spot on the sofa and turn on the television. I instantly regret because the man that cost me everything is on my screen – with his kilowatt smile. My grab tightens around my bottle of wine as he decrees the bring about a change that no country as however seen before. He tells members of this great nation, the nation that I gave my blood sweat and tears for – that joy has finally come. They’re lapping up every single word of it – and yet all I know is that promises are a comfort to a fool. ITV news correspondent Maxine Graham ask if he has any words for me, he pauses, I turn up my television and lean forward – my heart suddenly racing at what he could possibly say. “Respectfully ma’am, I’d rather not dwell on the past as I know we can all look forward to a brighter future.”

A scream erupts from my mouth so loud and full of rage I am surprised it came from me. In my rage I throw the remote at the television, causing it to crack and the image of YR’s smug face to disappear. ​I pace up and down in my apartment contemplating how this could have possibly happened. Up until a week ago I was the my immigrants parent’s dream and now… ​My phone rings, I let it go to voicemail so I can wallow and pace in peace. It rings again and again – each time more insistent than the last. ​‘If this is another reporter, I have nothing to say about this alleged victory?’ ​‘I’m not a reporter.’ Comes the unknown gravely voice – everything in me tells me that I should end the call and go back to hiding from the world and yet I felt compelled to listen. ​‘Who are you then?’ I ask not to sure why I was whispering ​‘A friend, a supporter, someone that thinks you were robbed.’ They replied and it was all very ominous. I know I should hang up but at this point I have reached the point of no return and hit rock bottom. Everyone who I thought was a friend had disappeared – claiming my true colours had been exposed for the world to see. I need a friend, I need support, I need vindication. I was desperate. ​‘Go on, I am listening’ ​‘There’s a group of us, we’re small in numbers but have connections with the right kind of people?’ ​‘The right kind of people?’ ​‘The kind of people that are willing to go to make that wrongs are made right…you dear were wronged’.

​I zoned out for a few moments unbelieving that this conversation was actually happening. One million thoughts were racing through my head at the speed of light. Had I not answered the call would have they kept trying to contact me? Would they have come to find me, it wouldn’t be hard now that I was a disgraced regular citizen. ​‘Are you still there?’ ​‘Yes, yes…sorry, I was just thinking…’ I say.

​‘Ah yes those awful riots…leave a lot to be desired, many communities have been torn apart’ ​‘Yes, it’s been…’ I trail of as the cogs in my brain start to go into overdrive turning me from drunk and incoherent to sober in a matter of seconds. ‘…that, that was you?’ ​‘Yes’ they chuckle ‘Some of our finest work to date, you see we have common interest you and I but with you out of office those interest are threatened’ ​‘People died’ ​‘Oh come now – we know all about you Madame Prime Minister…and the things that you have done and have been willing to do’ ​‘Who is this?’ ​‘Like I said, I am friend and as your friend I am willing to help you and from what I you’re short on those’.

The House of Reggie’s Tv Show Season 3 Trailer:

Written By:

Michelle Yeboah

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