The Road Monologue

I clenched my dad’s hand until my knuckles turned white, clinging on for safety. I didn’t even consider the idea of him not being there. I looked down in awe at his monstrously large hand attached to my tiny one. While everything and everyone else was shivering, his hand remained warm and comforting. As we wandered through the crowds swarming outside Camden tube station he looked down at me with reassuring eyes. I tightened my grip as the people closed in on me. Finally we emerged and I let out a small but significant sigh of relief. I looked down at my age 9-10 oversized blazer and straightened out the corners. I felt a sense of purpose when wearing it; the florescent blue crest distinguished me from children of other schools, marking

I cautiously shuffled down the stairs towards the silent platform, scattered with school children and business men. With every step my red pleated school skirt lifted slightly above each knee. ‘The 07:47 Capital Connect train to Moorgate is now delayed by approximately 6 minutes’ announced the robot-like woman, pausing unevenly. I let out a shaky sigh as I tapped my Oyster card on the reader. I had grown accustomed to the repetitive routine of traveling on the Northern Line from East Finchley to Camden everyday, blissfully unaware of the myriad of lines. The train glided silently into the station, casting a shadow over platform 1 and the waiting passengers. The crowds boarded hastily as the doors opened. The train’s doors noisily slammed shut and a moments silence was followed by the gentle electric murmur as the train slid out of the station. Across the crowds I made eye contact with another year 7 who gave an awkward smile. The smile turned to a frown as she rummaged through her bag, but then let out a heavy sigh as she found the lost object. I observed as she looked at her watch with bated breath, conscious of the train delay. As the train slowly pulled into Moorgate I concentrated on my intricately tangled headphones, picking at them hopelessly until I managed to hurriedly untie each knot. I stepped off the train and a bony finger stabbed me in the back. I turned around instantaneously

I stepped out of the tube station and got out my pre-printed Google Maps directions. I looked around for the road labelled but couldn't find it. I sat down on a bench amongst many outside the tube station and got out my phone to call Bella, unaware of my surroundings. ‘Hello little girl,’ said an unrealistically happy old woman. I smiled and meekly replied ‘hello’. The woman sat back to reveal her older friend in a wheel chair. The woman in the wheelchair wriggled, writhed, spat and shouted randomly. She attempted to speak but all that came out of her mouth were shouts and whimpers. The man who then turned around had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth and whenever he inhaled he was sent into crippling coughing fits. The first woman cackled, making my hair stand on end, ‘he can do magic’. ‘Would you like to see’ smiled the man, his pupils large. He stretched out his arm to reveal scars from where several needles had been injected and pulled out a multicoloured tissue from his ripped sleeve. His eyes found mine and he stuck out his tongue showing at least four piercings. I slyly put my phone away and nodded. ‘he’s not done’ the woman spat, her words so slurred they became almost indistinguishable. Shocked back into reality I shuffled away as