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Chapter 3

They say that when you die your hearing is the last to go. I close my eyes and focus on the sounds of London. Despite my height I can still her the bustling traffic down below, if I listen closely, I can hear my heart struggling to pump whatever blood that remains round my body. There are two stages of death. The first being when the heart stops . after that, I'll have 4-6 minutes before biological death begins. Within those precious moments there is a chance I can be saved. I could have saved her. that night. I could've. tears spill down my face. I know I'm lying to myself. there is nothing two eight-year-old girls could've done to change her fate.

Her screams had echoed up into our shared bedroom. At the fourth yell Joe had grabbed my arm. I had grasped her closely to me. "what happened Joey" I asked. I didn't have a mirror but if I could've seen my face it would have been the same as my sisters. I am sure that our identical features would have been stained with horror.

"some men came in. through the back door. I thought it was daddy but..." her voice was trembling. The memory shakes me to me core. "he. He hit me. he asked if there was anyone else at the house" angry red marks were on her fragile cheek. "mummy came in she, told me to run." she paused. A solitary tear separated from the rest and had rolled down her cheek. "I went to find you. JJ what do we do?"

I don't know why Joanne had looked to me for the answer that night. She was the eldest, by four minutes. She had always been the bossy one, dominant. Even when we were toddlers it was always her favourite toy, her game, her choice. I think that it was the vulnerability and pure fear in her eyes that made me go downstairs that day. After staring at the door, I got up. The jeans were still covered in sand from that afternoon's playtime. I don't know what possessed me, but somewhere in the mind of an eight-year-old whose world was about to change I needed to take them off. I remained eerily calm while my mother's life hung in the balance. I slipped a matching nightgown over my head and had held out my hand for my twin.

I remember her taking it hesitantly, the glimmer of hope in her eyes at the thought us being facing whatever there was downstairs frightened me. I don't know why she trusted me so much. but I had taken advantage of it. "joey, we are going to help. but we need to quiet. okay" she nodded silently. little did I know that I was leading her to her death.

a sharp jolt in my stomach makes me open my eyes again. I had my eyes closed for barely ten seconds. Time seems to slow down in death. I used to think that your entire life flashes before you in milliseconds when you are slipping over the edge. so why am I only seeing a childhood horror? I try to block out the thoughts of that night. her cries, their laugh. The darkness I witnessed that night. "Harry, think of Harry" the voice escapes me, startling me in the process. it sounds raspy and weak. were those my last words?

chocolate curls. he always had perfectly formed chocolate curls. bright green eyes, and his smell. Mint and summer, a dip of honey and cotton, and a smell that's only him. him, him, him.

if only Harry was there that night to scoop me in his arms. the thought of his touch almost makes me melt. he would have known what to do that night. He would have warned me not to go downstairs. He would have held my hand and told me it was going to be all right. My heart aches, longing for him to be near me. suddenly the last kiss we had just 2 hours ago isn't enough, I shouldn't have done this. I try and get up, but the knife in me holds me down. The very same knife that began the tragedy of today.