You would think it would be pretty easy to escape a city, to just slip out unnoticed amongst the carnage and terror that already runs amok. England is a police state, our colour isn't something that can be disguised or hidden away so this makes the task all the more difficult.
Cerys had packed the day before, stuffing our things away into bags, anything we couldn’t carry would be left, the room looked so bare, cherished memories torn down and packed away in boxes, boxes that would be left to molder or burnt away by the riots.
This small oppressive apartment had been home for three years, it had kept us safe from the harm outside in the streets and now it was time to leave it behind and I almost felt my insides quiver with trepidation at the thought of leaving, Cerys spent the next day crying tears onto my shoulders, trembling, slight frame shuddering with sobs against me as we waited for night to fall.
I can hardly hold my pen to write about the future, the past seems to creep in, clouding my mind, so as I lay back and try to sleep, my mind creeps in and draws pictures, pulls forward the days when I was happy.
In 2008 I was 18; I had turned 18 in the February of that year, the 28th to be precise. That was the year that democracy fell. In March the prime minister stepped down and up stepped the man who was going to shape the future for us all: Michael Traver, young at only 32 and head of the Nationalist party, a bad omen for us all, I almost imagine the shudder that ran through the nation when he took up 'office.'
It started off with protests, the people did not vote Michael in, the people did not want a Nationalist running their country, but times were changing, people were changing, there were some that wanted Michael in office, there were some who wanted a nationalist running their country, and that when people began to take sides. It all happened so quickly that most of us had no time to react to the riots and the violence that almost took the country apart and then it was Michael Travers time to make his presence known.
I remember only one part of the televised speech, it still rings loudly in my mind when I sleep and the nightmares take hold.
"There is no room in this country for the violence and animalism that the multicultural government has brought to us. Remember this day, remember the day when Britain stood up and said enough is enough! Remember the day when England tore itself from the United Nations and held its head high once more. Remember England for the Whites. Rule Britannia"
England broke free of the U.N and began to shut its borders to all immigrants, people attempting to illegally enter the country were shot on sight, and mass execution was the norm.
Police began to publicly beat and humiliate anyone of ethnic background, people of colour who had homes in their native countries were encouraged to leave, and they did so willingly, the people with nowhere else to go waited around for their fate.
In the three years I was only ever beaten three times in the streets and each time it was protecting Cerys who I would lay my life down for, I barely escaped with my life the third time. It took along time for me to walk properly and I am still blind in one eye. They broke my fingers, one of my legs and beat my face into a bloody mash with truncheons; Cerys never left my side whilst she was nursing me.
Pretty soon other countries began adopting England’s status on immigration. Our very own Prime Minister Michael Travers signed an allied agreement with the USA and they quickly changed their immigration laws to match ours, their regime was ten times as tough, ten times as brutal, never to be out done, the Americans began deporting anyone of colour out of their country. Land of the free indeed. And after that we lost contact with them. Well anyone of colour did anyway. New laws applied to us, new rules.
We were moved to the ghettoes, everyone of us, high classed, middle classed, lower classed, bunched together in smalls walled off ghettoes and I couldn't help but remember Germany and think of a phrase my mother used to tell me "History always ends up repeating itself Danny."
And then they began to deport us.
"Danny it's time to go..."