Where Are Her Children?

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Mr. Wilson is ringing at the door. Two policemen are with him. He tried earlier today, but Mrs. Pauley was not at home. Why are they looking for her? Wait, I know why! When we were playing football and hit her window, she threw a bucket of water at us! One of the smaller kids must have told his parents and now they’ve come to tell her she must stop. It wasn’t fair, coz we didn’t break her window or anything.

Now she’s opened the door. I can’t hear what the guards are saying, but she’s talking loud. Her face is red. She says she won’t leave coz this is her home.Why, leave home? Oh! Now I get it! Mum said she’s not paying rent since Mr. Pauley died. They’re throwing her out! Where will she go? She’s screaming now, while the landlord and one policeman are holding her by the arms, while the other one is putting red and white tape across the door.

I hate her, she’s mean to us, but now they’re making her cry. I thought they were only giving her a warning: there’s no need to hurt people like that. Just coz she’s behind with her rent, and so what? It’s no big deal, why can’t they just talk and sort it out? Maybe every neighbour could donate some money and in the end we could give it to her. So she can stay another month. Or maybe her children could pay for it. Mr. Wilson was always nice to her when she was still paying. Now he’s so mean. Grown-ups are fake. I don’t want to be fake. If they were taking away my mum, I’d protect her. Where are her children now?

Written in response to Writing 101, Day Eighteen: Hone Your Point of View

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