Hater 1: Hater by David Moody Read Free Book Online

she talks. And she talks. And she keeps talking. I screw my eyes shut and pull the duvet over my head.
        
        I managed to last another twenty minutes with Ellis in bed before admitting defeat and getting up. I'm in the kitchen now waiting for the kettle to boil. We're both dressed and Ellis has had her breakfast but she's still talking non-stop about nothing in particular. Lizzie's still in bed. She could sleep through anything. Wish I could.
        It's freezing cold in here. This flat is impossible to heat. I think it's so cold because the rest of the building is virtually empty. We're on the left hand side of the ground floor and all the warmth that our old-fashioned heating system generates just rises up and disappears into the empty flats above us. I've even thought about trying to get us moved upstairs to see if that makes any difference.
        I grab my drink and a bowl of cereal and sit down in front of the TV. There's nothing on worth watching; crappy cartoons, cookery and lifestyle programmes and loud, intelligence-insulting kids shows are all I can find. I settle on the news but even the headlines are boring this morning (an outbreak of violence in the capital, a sex scandal involving a politician and his nephew, more warnings about climate change and a celebrity death). I'll wait for the sports headlines. They're usually on just before the hour.
        Christ, all the kids are out of bed now. Why do they have to get up so early? We have to drag them out of their beds when it's a school day. They've only been up for a couple of minutes and I can already hear Ed and Josh fighting over something. I close my eyes and wait for them to start on me. It's only a matter of time…
        'I want to watch Channel 22,' Ed says as he storms into the room. Does his entire life revolve around TV?
        'I'm watching this,' I answer quickly, annoyed that I've been disturbed.
        'With your eyes shut?' he sneers in an irritating tone which makes me want to slap him.
        'Yes, with my eyes shut,' I sneer back. 'I'm waiting to watch something.'
        'I really need to watch Channel 22, Dad,' he whines.
        'Watch it in your room,' I suggest sensibly. We bought Ed a TV last Christmas. He hardly uses the damn thing.
        'I can't get Channel 22 in there.'
        'Sorry, son, I'm watching this. You can turn over when it's finished.'
        'That's not fair,' he yells at me, 'I never get to watch any of my programmes.'
        Little shit. He seems to spend all of his time in front of the box. How often do I get a turn? It's my TV and I can watch what I like, when I like. I don't know why but I find myself trying to justify watching a five minute programme to my eight year old son.
        'You're always watching TV. It's all I ever see you do.'
        'No it isn't. It's not fair, you never let me watch what I want.'
        I can hear the sports bulletin theme music playing. I open my eyes. Ed's standing directly between me and the TV screen.
        'Look, this is only on for five minutes. Let me watch it then you can have your channel on.'
        'It's my turn to choose,' Ellis pipes up. I didn't even know she was in here. That's twice she's done that to me today.
        'No it isn't,' Ed shouts. 'I'm watching my channel next.'
        'But you've got your own telly. I haven't got one. That's not fair, is it Daddy?'
        'It's just tough. I asked first.'
        'I asked Mummy last night. She said I could watch what I wanted to this morning. She said that…'
        'Will you both just shut up!' I yell, loud enough for the people in the flat on the top floor to hear. I hold my head in my hands in despair. Through the gaps between my fingers I can see the TV screen. The sports reporter is in full flow but I can't hear a damn word she's saying.
        'Tell her, Dad,' Ed barks again, not about to let it drop. 'I'm watching my channel next.'
        'No you're not.