Knife's Edge

CHAPTER ONE

Okay, let me tell you a story.

Somewhere in the north of England, there lives a town called Greencliff. It's a small town – tiny, in fact – but it has huge problems.

In this town, there lived a man – a bad man – a ruthless drug dealer with a keen eye for business. He was charming, smart, and resourceful, but above all else he was pure evil.

This man met a woman – as most stories go – and this woman had it all. Brains, beauty, a bright future – she was going on to do great things with her life, she had dreams and goals and plans. She was unstoppable (or at least so she thought) and from the moment he laid eyes on her, the man wanted her.

As it turns out, the woman wasn't so bright. She fell for his charm, his flirting, his jokes. She let him drag her so far into his world that her future began to dim. She ignored her friends when they warned her he was bad, pushed them away, and cut them out of her life. She got caught up in the drugs – a lot of them – and eventually fell pregnant with the man's child.

She had no money, no friends, no options. He offered for her to move into his house and, obviously, she agreed. What choice did she have? It was that or sleep on the streets and, logically, she knew which would be easier access to a high. So what if he'd invite his friends over? So what if she'd have to 'entertain'? She wouldn't remember it anyway.

Although here's the thing, the real kicker to this story: she wasn't the only one.

When she moved into his house, another woman was living there, a mother to a young girl. Then, a year or so later, another woman appeared, also pregnant, with nowhere else to go.

Three women all caught in his web – all desperate, all junkies, and all with a child (his child) that they couldn't provide for.

Three daughters.

His three daughters.

How do I know all this, you ask? Well, that's easy.

It's because I'm one of them.

I grew up with a mother who could barely remember my name, too far off her face most days to even know her own. I grew up with two other girls, one younger and one older, who were always as scared and hungry as I was. And, of course, I grew up with him.

We were found when I was seven, living in the filthy cramped basement of his house, just on the outskirts of town. He'd been busted at a business deal gone wrong and was eventually sent to prison. The two girls and I got thrown into the ruthless world of foster care, bouncing from family to family until we eventually got placed with the Crawford's – a nice married couple willing to take us in as a trio. It was a lucky save.

Once the man was taken away, my mother disappeared. She didn't come back for me. She didn't even say goodbye.

At first, that hurt. Eventually, I realised it was the kindest thing she had ever done for me. It really was for the best.

She had never provided me with the care that the Crawford's could. She had never bought me new clothes, or any toys to play with. She had barely remembered to feed me most days.

I was that forgotten puppy people buy at Christmas, love for a while, but soon lose interest in.

From the minute I was saved from that life I promised myself I would never let myself become my mother. I would never allow myself to be sucked back into that world. I wanted to create a bright future for myself, and become the woman my mother should have been.

That's why, when Lucas Coleman and two of his brothers (Finn and Andrew) walk into Wilson's café during my evening shift, my good mood sours.

They've never bothered with this place before.