Third Time Lucky: Living the nightmare

Chapter One: The beginning

It was 25th November 2014. Hard to believe that another year had almost passed.

There was so much to do.

Christmas was coming, and fast. There was stacks to do, in fact, and only a few weeks to get organised.

Beth began to panic.

She untangled herself from her bedding and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full-length mirror on her wardrobe. Yep, she looked rough. Her hair was a mess. It was bedraggled, and her roots needed doing – again. Yet she knew that, after her chores, she would transform herself into something quite stunning. It was amazing how good you could look after just a few hours of pampering and a great deal of meticulously applied make-up. She smiled as she went to the bathroom, picturing how she would look in a few hours' time.

"Pretty good for a forty-three-year-old," she muttered to herself.

Dave stirred. "You okay in there?"

"Sure," Beth replied, looking forward to her busy day ahead.

She straightened the towels, polished the chrome on the sink tap and jumped into the shower, reminding herself to stand very still to avoid splashing the tiles.

* * *

1994: Elise

Elise awoke to find herself in a strange bedroom. The filthy roller-blind hung from a broken rail, allowing the grey November daylight to filter through the nicotine-stained window panes. Torn wallpaper clung desperately to the damp walls, and a light bulb above the bed flickered, and then died.

Next to her was a stranger. Unshaven, at least sixty years old and naked. He snored loudly and stank of booze and fags. His hideously fat gut moved up and down in rhythm with his heavy breathing. Elise slid out of bed and tried to recollect how she got there. She didn't need much prompting to remember.

Her underwear was discarded on the floor, along with an empty packet of ribbed condoms. A half-drunk bottle of vodka and a packet of Marlboro cigarettes were on a dingy cabinet, along with a twenty-pound note. She immediately jolted back into reality and remembered exactly where she was.

Fighting back tears, she gathered her clothes and ran into the hallway, clutching the money she had worked so hard to get.

* * *

2004: Lizzie

Her back hurt. She had asked the staff a hundred times for another sodding mattress, but they always refused, saying that hers was perfectly adequate. It really pissed her off and, now that her sleep meds were wearing off, she was in a foul mood.

The stupid bitch in the bed next to her didn't help either. She never had problems sleeping. She spent most of her life bloody unconscious – crazy fat cow.

The nurses and their annoying, whining voices and the shrill of the phones all bloody night also irritated Lizzie beyond the point of anger. She loathed everybody. She hated this hell-hole, but knew that she would have to be extremely well behaved over the coming months. Her release would mean a new beginning for her; a fresh start. She took a quick shower, combed her hair and put on her tracksuit.

It was almost 7 a.m. – breakfast time – and Lizzie hoped that her recent behaviour would allow her the privilege of enjoying a bowl of cereal instead of soggy toast. The weak, piss-flavoured coffee would be revolting but she would drink it anyway because, today, Lizzie was going to be a good girl.

"Mummy's little angel," she mumbled quietly as she shuffled into the breakfast queue.