Girls Without Hope

Harriet Stoaks is 13 years old. She had a lovely life... until one day she had to move to the other side of the country.


3. Chapter 3

Finally the day had come. My house was full of cardboard boxes, each one packed with things that are important to us. To my mum, my dad and me, those boxes contained our memories, our lives. Well, maybe old clothes and stinky socks aren’t that exciting, but they still mean something to me. The house seemed so empty now, so big, not like it used to be. The paintings had been removed from the walls, leaving dark, shadowy patches in their places. All of the furniture had been removed, and stuffed into the removal van with all the other things. The house seemed like an empty shell. It may sound silly, but I actually went round to every room one more time to say goodbye, before we clambered into one of the removal vans and drove away, leaving our little house forever. When we arrived, I was shocked to see that our new house was absolutely enormous! It seemed like a mansion compared to my old house. I excitedly climbed out of the van and ran straight to the door. I tried the doorknob. To my despair, it was locked. My Dad rushed up behind me.
“Why so eager, Harriet?” He said with a chuckle. I just shrugged and pointed at the keyhole with curiosity. He put the key in the lock and turned. It made a clicking noise, and the door slowly creaked open. My dad and I both gasped. My Mum jumped out of the van and rushed up to the open door to see what all the fuss was about. She gasped too! We just stared at the inside of the house. As beautiful as it was on the outside, it was completely different on the inside. It was in a terrible state. Plaster was crumbling off the ceiling, wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and half of the disgusting yellow carpet had been torn up. “Well,” said my dad, rubbing his chin, “I think it could use a little bit of work.” A little bit of work? Is he COMPLETELY BONKERS? This decrepit old house will need years of plastering, wall-papering, painting and carpet-laying before it’s back to its original state. I seem to be the one who is totally sane and think we should move back to our old house! But will my parents listen to anything I have to say? No, they won’t. That’s just typical.

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