"Hello," came the voice.Richard sat up, disoriented. Had he fallen asleep? He eyed his overturned watch greedily. Perhaps his shift was almost over. I... had to be. He hadn't looked at the watch in a long time. Ten minutes, at least... A man of perhaps forty stood in front of the desk, watching Richard with a grin. "Long night at the front desk, huh?" Um, yeah, I guess," Richard answered. His hand crept towards the watch."Do you have keys to the upstairs maintenance room?" the man asked."Um, I. I was bullied relentlessly, I felt awkward and shy around prettymuch everyone. "Fucking-goth-tosser" had become more of a greeting thanan insult. Chavs roamed in packs as the "alternative" were hunted forsport.The first four years of Secondary School were a living nightmare, I hadfew friends and such low social standing that even the teachers wouldoccasionally question my existence. "Ben Robson? Who's that? Are yousupposed to be on my register? Which class did you come from?" MrsMatherson once. More

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