:)

Chapter 4

dear Lisa, im putting time and effort into this. you best be reading it. send my the words. "liz is the best" rn so I know your actually reading 

I try and focus on the now. The sky is layered with pinks and yellows, swallowing the blues of the day. preparing the world for the darkness of night. The moon is fighting its way past the light to reign over mankind for 8 short hours until its beaten down. Here the sun is setting but somewhere a child is waking up to a beautiful day; full of hope and longing. They will face tiny decisions that will ultimately become their downfall, a decision- once combined with the millions of others- will lead them to the eventual darkness of reality.

It's almost unfathomable how deeply one decision can scar your life. It's the butterfly effect. In its simplest form. One inconsequential thought can roll out a be your undoing. Mine was the decision to open that door ten years ago.

I had grabbed Joanne's hand. Pulling her into the hallway. Instinctively we had both risen to our tiptoes. both of us were determined to make as little noise as possible. If only we remained that way. I groped my way along the corridor until we reached the familiar steps. The light was on in the kitchen. The screams were getting louder. "please! please" my mother begged countless times for her life, for her dignity, in that hour. Joey whimpered quietly at the sounds of mum's yells. A myriad of tears was rolling down her quivering cheeks. "stay here joey, ok?" I had instructed sitting her down on the top step. She nodded slowly, too terrified to give a verbal response.

I made my way down the stairs shivering as the breeze slithered in through the open back door. The scene that met me when I made it to the bottom step is heavily ingrained in my mind. My mother was on the floor, exposed and bloody. A man was hovering over her, embracing her pain. She was tied down, her arms were unnaturally strapped behind her back, bound together with a dark rope. A second man held a knife to her throat and a third held her legs apart. Her denim jeans had been ripped open; her face was stained with tears. yet, even as I remember that moment, she is still the strongest women I have ever seen.

It was the first time I'd ever come across a sexual encounter. I didn't recognise it at the time. All my young mind could comprehend was that these men were hurting her. Their hands were biting her skin leaving bruises and flaming marks in their wake. Her green eyes were screwed up in anguish. The first man was pumping in and out of her. Laughing and mocking her pain. His hands inflicting more damage than his length while he prodded, poked and taunted.

"please. stop. please you don't need to do this." she had begged as the torture continued. I had collapsed on the bottom step. traumatised by terror I was witnessing. For five minutes I sat, shocked. unnerved. frozen.

It wasn't until I had heard Joe's soft footsteps meet the stair on which I was sat, did my attention shift from my mother. Joe's night gown brushed my face as she had sat down next to me. Joey leaned in, her damp cheek brushing mine. "what are they doing to mummy?" she had whispered. Her breathes slowly increasing in speed. Desperation was weld into her eyes.

"I don't know, joey. What do we do?" the previous power dynamic that was established earlier, erased as the words left my mouth.

Joanne grabbed my arm; Mother had seen us. Her bright eyes were fixed on the step we were sat. "run" she mouthed in our direction. it was that action that alerted the men of our presence.

I blink. the mesmerising colours of the sunset has pulled me into a rabbit hole of thought. The pink colours taunting the cruel red that escaped my mother's body that night. I focus my vision to the horizon just beyond the London eye, where the sky meets the Thames. The beauty of the ever-darkening day is being shown along the water's surface. I was admiring the sunset yesterday.

"you want to know what I love about the sunset?" Harry said. Wrapping his arms around me as he had rested his head on my shoulder. We were at the top of the London eye alone and in an abyss of pure love. "what?" I said, smiling at the boy who I adored.

"they are a reminder that no matter what. Every day is beautiful"

"really? who told you that"

" this really creepy girl on our first date. she was weird"

"I am not weird. Mr 'I wear black all the time'" I laughed, turning around and placing a kiss on his lips. "whoa" I said pulling away, the view I had seen over his shoulder was more mesmerising than the river. I pointed it out to Harry.

"not as beautiful as the view I have right now." he replied, his ocean eyes were piercing my soul. Nothing can ever compete with the jittery feeling Harry has always made me feel. Even now, the memory of his voice warms my heart and puts butterflies in my stomach. Or it could be the knife embedded in my organs, I'll never know. Big Ben tells me I have been out on this roof for 43 seconds. Time seems to be taking the scenic route at the moment.