Over the last 5 months I have been unraveling. Now I am just about clinging on by a single ratty thread. The stress is unbearable and I float in a permanent haze of headaches and migraines. Never ending. Never easing. Never moving forwards. I am drowning, because they have destroyed our home and stolen our happiness.
A window Company.
The ones we trusted with our safety and security. The ones we trusted with our family. These are now the cruel people playing a sick and twisted game with us. Who have left my family vulnerable in our own home. The cowboy traders who broke every rule in the book, who then ran away, stealing every good feeling out of me. Out of my family.
They messed up. Things happen. But not this. These errors are not normal. They measured the windows wrongly. They tried to cover it up. Of course the windows wouldn’t fit. Quick, emergency windows in. Our upstairs floor dropped. Disbelief. Shock. Fright. Not for you. I can tell. This must have happened to you before. So smoothly covered up. Why are you leaving? We will be back, to finish everything you reassured. So swiftly running away. So many lies. Layers of lies. Leaving us like this upstairs and downstairs. Why?
Inside our home, upstairs and downstairs we have been left like this.
Our floor. It has ripped right away from the skirting board.
This letter may or may not be read by them. That Window Company.
But a letter I must write, because this cannot be right… can it? Can anyone tell me if I am asking for too much? Am I… I don’t know any more.
Dear Window Company,
How can you tell me, in our own home, that if our ceiling falls on my little ones head that you don’t care. That you don’t care if your shoddy cowboy job kills my baby. Standing there smugly, you are proud to tell me that it’s not your problem. The company has insurance.
Yes. Insurance is your answer to everything.
You insult me further by smiling. You make a joke. Is it funny? You announce that the company fitter and director can go to prison if our ceiling collapses on someone.
Then you leave.
Leaving me as wrecked as you have left our home.
The door shuts. Shutting us into this house. I look around. It’s not my home anymore. My home doesn’t crumble at the seams like this. Well, it didn’t before.
This was 5 months ago.
5 months of begging you to come back to fix and finish the job you started. Properly. Just like the qualified RICS building surveyor has asked you to do.
5 months of us being forced to camp out in our office, because all our bedrooms are out of action because of the state you have left us in.
5 months of soothing my little ones nightmares of our monster house, which oozes bright yellow foam from around the exposed bricks and windows. Riddled with holes. So if it’s not the spiders giving us a fright, it’s every foot step we can hear walking past the house on a dark evening.
It’s the Autumn months that have left us freezing. Shivery and cold. Never being able to feel warm all the way through.
We have lost important birthdays and summer holidays that have been and gone in a strained blur.
Its 2 months till Christmas. Are you going to steal this from us too?
All we ask is that you finish the job you started. Correct the wreck that you have caused. Have the decency to say sorry. Is it really that hard for you?
I am here. Clinging to a breaking thread that snaps further as each day passes. Because of them. The window company. Every time my 4 year old jumps when plaster falls from around the windows and goes skitter scattering across the floor, I am snapping. Breaking. How long can I hold on for? How long will they keep me hanging?
They Have Destroyed Our Home.
*Update. The Window Company came back to our home late November to finally sort out the nightmare that they left us in. Yet, as of mid-December at the time of writing, it still has yet to be fully completed. 13/12/16