Abandoned childs journey on Sydney train.

Im alone. Ever more so than I have been off late. Its been like that since my
mother died and my bastard uncle got custody of me. He isnt a nice man. I dont
know why him. Every day after my mothers death, he abused me in
unfathomable ways. He always said I was nothing but a pain. I am awake this
night because of the banging sounds at my door. I open it and see him outside.
He raises his hand at me. I close my eyes and clench my fists and he.
I awoke to the screeching sound of the rails. I find myself sleeping on the cold
hard ground. I feel dizzy. I reach for my phone usually in my jacket, its not
there, why am I not surprised? I look around to ascertain my location. Im near
the terminal station of the Sydney rail. I climb on to the train. The last of the
night. Unsure whether I should go back or not. I hear the train moving, the
screeching sound of the rails echoes in my conscience. The city skyline was
always a sight to behold. I tilt my head inwards to look inside the train. I see a
man clothed in ragged robes reaching for an elderly mans pocket; it doesnt
appear that the man in ragged robes is permitted to do so. I am actually
beginning to contemplate whether, I should do this too. Maybe I should, maybe
I shouldnt. If I should when should I start if no then what should I do? The
echo of my mothers parting words ring in my head. Never do wrong and never
be wronged. She said. I for the first time in many years understood what she
meant. I strike the path of the wrongdoer from my to-do list.
The old man wakes from his nap and catches the pickpocket red-handed. Not so
artful a dodger are you? he remarks cynically. My head moves once again
towards the window where I see the skyline emerging from the shady
silhouette. As the picture become clearer, I see my reflection being bombarded
with a myriad of coloured light rays almost as though, the city was inviting me to
bask in the many opportunities it had to offer. At a distance, I see a blue
banner. As the train comes closer to the banner, Beyond Blue I think it reads.
I remember reading about this organization. They help in managing depression, I
doubt even they would be able to help me. The train pulls up in a station. A young
man waddles into the train. His legs were horribly misshapen. I get up from my
seat he pushes me back in and insists on standing. He despite his handicap
refused all privileges and begins to tell me more about himself. As I listen to
more of his story, the more hope nourishes my conscience. If a physically

challenged person was successful I can make my own path too. The station I
should alight arrives. I get up from my seat. Should I alight? I think to myself.
The train stops. The pounding of my heart doesnt. I decide not to get off. As
the train moves further from Satans hellish grasp. Speak of the devil, I see my
uncle at a distance. A beer can in his hand and at least 3 in the big bulge called
a belly. He is as drunk as anyone could possibly be. He waddled his way
stumbling to the train as the doors shut before him. He makes it in.
I see the grin of content he has thinking Im gone. I move closer and closer
pacing myself and growing a backbone. Ive nothing more to lose I move close
enough to smell the beer. He looks a lot like Homer. I can see the lights of the
terminal station. Homer tilts his head. The very sight of me turns his smile
upside down. He lugs his sausage like bloated arms at me. Not this time I yell. In
the 2 years of my life I had spent with him, this was the best moment. I raise
my knee and hit him where it hurts. Almost as pre-planned, the doors give way. I
leave him reeling in pain and move to make my own life. I see the old man who
was sitting by my side and the handicap smile almost reassuringly. Ive been on
the train a number of times. This was the best.