A Failing Friend (edited version)

By the time her mother reached her, it was too late. She lay on the
floor, as still as a statue, amidst the sea of needles. Her mother stunned
to silence, her eyes glued to the dead body of her only daughter. Tanya.

She lay dead on the floor of our newly rented flat.

This was Tanya's new start on life. She was doing so well; she had
reformed; she had come into the light from many months of
being trapped in the darkness of drug abuse. Living life as a junkie.

Tanya had finally got over her addiction. After months of being
addicted to all the drugs out there. Cannabis, cocaine, heroin even
Paracetamol, she decided to do something about it, she contacted an NHS
support group and got over her addiction.

She even managed to qualify as a teacher in a secondary school and she
absolutely loved it. She would come round my house and tell me what
happened in her wonderful day; I would sit there enjoying her happiness.
The way she lovingly talked about her students and her colleagues, when
Tanya was happy I was happy. I was still studying and so I told her
about all my revision and how I felt like giving up and she would say,
“education is the key to success". Then we would both just burst out
laughing at her ‘wise’ words.
Everything was going fine until that one lesson. That lesson had
disaster written all over it. Disaster with a capital D.The day she had
to give a lesson on drugs.

I remember begging her to call in sick but Tanya would not listen. She
was not going to give in, so instead I accompanied her to school. Luckily
the school thought I was a student teacher and so I got away with it.
Tanya was not happy at all about me accompanying her to her lesson but
I wasn't happy about her teaching the lesson so there was nothing the
either of us could do to make the other happy.

Surprisingly the lesson went smoothly. I assisted Tanya when it came to
handling drugs and she delivered all the information. The children were
completely absorbed in her anecdotes about her ‘friend’ and hung on to
her every word. Tanya thoroughly enjoyed this. She was an attention
seeker after all.

I was so naive in thinking that Tanya ha completely gone off drugs,
that I left her alone in the class with the case full of them.

The lesson was over and so I went to grab us both a smoothie, leaving Tanya alone with the case of drugs. There was no one to stop her taking the case; all the teachers had either gone to the canteen, shut them selves in their rooms with a heap of paperwork or gone home. There was only the cleaners on the same floor as Tanya but they were too absorbed in their own work to see a teacher ‘returning’ a case of drugs, even though it was hidden underneath her coat.

I was only 10 minutes, but that was ample time for Tanya to escape with
that darn case. She even had time to write me a letter. A suicidal
note:

Dear Abbie,
I'm so sorry. I was never strong on willpower. While
I'm sitting her, alone in the flat with the case of drugs, I don't know
what I'm doing. Everything is a blur. I’m so sorry for disappointing you.
You really believed I could do it and the least I could do was to give
them up for you, but they just keep calling me. By the time you finish
reading this letter I will have gone. I’m not going to say to a better
place because I know for a fact that I'm going straight to hell, a good
for nothing waster like me. I just wanted to say that you are the best
and I love you. You’ve always been there for me and I couldn't do
anything for you. I promise that I will never ever forget you, even
while I am in Hell.
Don't try in any way to bring me back to life because I know I will
return to drugs no matter what sort of therapy I get. I’m not as strong
as you are. I wish I was but I am not.
Give my love to Mum and tell her I am sorry for being such a terrible
daughter. An omen in her life. She will be at peace without me.

Love Tanya
xxx

P.S. I am dead now


No matter how many times I read her letter it never quite sinks in
that she has gone. I hope I rot in hell for having failed her. I failed my
own best friend. All because of me, a mother is distraught at having
lost her only child. All I had to do was to keep that damn case of drugs
out of her reach and I couldn't even manage that.

By the time her mother reached her, it was too late. She lay on the
floor, as still as a statue, amidst the sea of needles. Her mother stunned
to silence. Her eyes glued to the dead body of her only daughter. Tanya...

Lifeless - 17A

Something is bugging me.

I live with my mum and dad, both of whom work for some posh high-class company. They’re both stuck-up, two faced, greedy and selfish i.e. made for each other. They care little for me or anyone else but themselves. It is yet another Friday, coming home from... I can’t actually recall where I am coming from. But everything else, still the same. Same street, same modern- three floored houses and the same people; everything is so normal, I hadn’t noticed how normal it actually is.

But something is bugging me.

There are workmen at Mr Smith’s house painting. One of them waves at me and I wave back but either he’s cross-eyed or doesn’t like looking people in the eye, though he waves at me! Further down the road I notice that my Nan isn’t there; that is completely unusual because believe it or not my Nan waits to greet me every single day mainly after school or on my way back from the shop. Yet I still can’t remember where I’m coming back from!

Now outside my house an extremely abnormal black cat just appears in front of my door; in my mum’s mind black cats are bad luck but I’m not really into that crap. The cat is standing motionless right outside my door and won’t move... after lots of pleading I lose patience and scream, “Shoo... Shoo you stupid cat” The cat runs straight across the pavement onto my neighbours’ garden and disappears. I see my dad’s car, his pride and joy.

Finally inside my house, I throw my bag on the floor and stuff my shoes in the cabinet. Something smells odd but I can’t be bothered to care. On my way upstairs to get changed I hesitate and I decide to go to the kitchen.

And then I see it.

There are pieces of flesh on the floor, lots of them; I almost throw up at this moment, slowly moving my head up my eyes start to blink uncontrollably as if I’m having a fit. Although it’s a sunny day with all the windows open, the room suddenly looks and feels dark and dull. Nothing feels right. Everything’s on the floor; as if a tornado decided to visit my kitchen. Yet one question is in my head. Who does this flesh belong to?

As I run toward the stairs I notice the front door open by an inch or so. I know for a fact I didn’t leave the door open... I never leave the door open. I kick the door shut, run upstairs and scream for my mum and dad; but no one answers. I look at the cabinet, realise that my dad’s car keys have gone, yet out the window, everything remains as normal. I don’t know what to do. Before I know it I’m panicking, rushing down the stairs hoping and praying that I’m dreaming and it’s just my imagination playing up... but to my worst fear, it isn’t.

I run outside and scream for help, yet no one can hear me. Now completely baffled, I run to the workmen who are painting and beg for help yet nobody replies... nobody! Nothing’s making sense. That same guy waved at me earlier on. As I look behind me I see Ms Dean the prettiest lady in our whole street, well that’s what everyone thinks; it takes me a while to figure everything out, but I soon realise that the workman must have been waving at her... not me.

This is no longer a normal day.

Out of nowhere I think about what I overheard my parents talking about last night; it was along the lines of getting rid of something or someone who was getting in the way of their social life, causing some sort of hole in their wallets. I build up some courage and go to the kitchen. I was right. Now in tears I look at my hands, take a quick glance at the floor and see a ring, which is identical to the one I’m wearing. Then it clicks... everything makes sense. I feel lifeless... and now I know why!

A Failing Friend

By the time her mother reached her ,it was too late.She lay on the
floor.As still as a statue.amidst the sea of needles.Her mother stunned
to silence,her eyes glued to the dead body of her only daughter.Tanya.

This was Tanya's new start on life.She was doing so well.She had
turned over a new leaf.She had come into the light from many months of
being trapped in the darkness of drug abuse.Living life as a junkie.

Tanya had finally got over her addiction.After months of being
addicted to all the drugs out there.Cannabis, cocaine, heroine even
paracetamol, she decided to do something about it.She contacted an NHS
support group and got over her addiction.

She even managed to qualify as a teacher in a secondary school.She
absolutely loved it.She would come round my house and tell me what
happened in her wonderful day.I would sit there enjoying her happiness.
The way she lovingly talked about her students and her colleagues.When
Tanya was happy I was happy.I was still studying and so I told her
about all my revision and how I felt like giving up and she would say,"
education is the key to success". Then we would both just burst out
laughing at her 'wise' words.
Everything was going fine until that one lesson.That lesson had
disaster written all over it.Disaster with a capital D.The day she had
to give a lesson on drugs.

I remember begging her to call in sick but Tanya would not listen.She
was not going to give in.So instead,I accompanied her to school.Luckily
the school thought I was a student teacher and so I got away with it.
Tanya was not happy at all about me accompanying her to her lesson but
I wasn't happy about her teaching the lesson so there was nothing the
either of nus could do to make the other happy.

Surprisingly the lesson went smoothly.I assisted Tanya when it came to
handling drugs and she delivered all the information.The children were
completely absorbed in her anecdotes about her 'friend' and hung on to
her every word.Tanya thoroughly enjoyed this.She was an attention
seeker,after all.

I was so naive in thinking that Tanya ha completely gone off drugs ,
that I left her alone in the class with the case of drugs.While I went
to grab us both a smoothie Tanya was there with the case of drugs.Alone.
With no one to stop her from doing what she wanted.

I was only 10 minutes but that was ample time for Tanya to escape with
the big case of drugs.She even had time to write me a letter.A suicidal
note:

Dear Abbie,
I'm so sorry.I was never strong on the willpower.While
I'm sitting her ,alone in this car with the case of drugs,I don't know
what I'm doing.Everything is a blur.I'm so sorry for disappointing you.
You really believed I could do it and the least I could do was to give
them up for you but they just keep calling me.By the time you finish
reading this letter I will have gone.I'm not going to say to a better
place because I know for a fact that I'm going straight to hell.A good
for nothing waster like me.I just wanted to say that you are the best
and I love you.You've always been there for me and I couldn't do
anything for you.I promise that I will never ever forget you ,even
while I am in Hell.
Don't try in any way to bring me back to life because I know I will
return to drugs no matter what sort of therapy I get.I'm not as strong
as you are.I wish I was but I am not.
Give my love to Mum and tell her I am sorry for being such a terrible
daughter.An omen in her life.She will be at peace without me.

Love Tanya
xxx

P.S. I am dead now


No matter how many times I read her letter it never quite sinks in
that she has gone.I hope I rot in hell for having failed her.Failing my
own best friend.All because of me, a mother is distraught at having
lost her only child.All I had to do was to keep that damn case of drugs
out of her reach and I couldn't even manage that.

By the time her mother reached her ,it was too late.She lay on the
floor.As still as a statue.amidst the sea of needles.Her mother stunned
to silence,her eyes glued to the dead body of her only daughter.Tanya.

goodbye greg

The ice splinters beneath his fingers, as he tries to hold himself above the freezing river water. I watch as his eyes slowly roll to the back of his head. Slowly but surely they begin to slip off the ice .I watch as his face turns blue as the strong river currents pulls him to his death.

“Job done,” I coldly say. A sudden feeling of relief is injected into me like an absent painkiller that had left and been replaced with hate. Those vile nights with just the two of us. Alone. Not any more. It was just mum and me again; Greg had just been washed away for good, like a stain removed by a powerful detergent.

It was a chilly dark October evening and the air seemed to have a bit of an icy edge on it. I quickly scrambled into a nearby bush at the rivers side as I heard a young couple walking on their midnight stroll. Minutes later he was found. The screams and wails echoed around the valley. “If only she knew the truth shed be sighing with relief, not crying” I whispered whilst still trying to plan my way back home. The only tear shed for him would be tears of joy.

Later that evening, back at home, there was a knock at the door and as the officer walked in I scrambled upstairs to prolong the inevitable. I heard him tell my mum Greg was dead. Her reaction was surprising to say the least; no laughter, screams of joy or even tears of happiness. She just howled and wailed. Why? She knew what he did to me. She knew he was the reason I was in THIS condition. Why didn’t she want him dead? “It must be an act,” I thought as I heard the officer’s footsteps approach my door.

“Ms James can you please tell me where you where between 7 and 9pm this evening?”

“By the lake” I replied very matter of fact.

“And can you tell me precisely what you were doing there?” he asked fully aware of the answer.

“Killing my step-dad” there was no point denying it. He came here for an answer and I gave it to him.

“Would that be Greg Harminson of this household,” he asked with a short smile that meant “job done”.

“Yep!”.

The rest was like a scene from “The Bill”. They took me to the station, questioned me and sat me in a room alone with my thoughts. They weren’t very comforting but at least I could reflect on my actions. “Mum wasn’t happy? Or relieved at the very least. Why was she pretending? Why?

* * * *

We walked into the pub and found a secluded seating area in the corner. Mum brought me a j20 and herself a Jack Daniels and coke, “Dutch courage” I thought .It was 5 minutes after 7 when a tall muscular figure entered the pub and walked straight towards us. “Sophie, this is Greg, ” she said scanning my face looking for any signs of dislike. My opinion meant the world to my mum so when she found no signs whatsoever, my relief rubbed onto her. “Hi” I replied in a jolly tone. At least this guy was better than the last one. I mean he was balding mid-forties and wore a plastic medallion around his neck so this new guy was definitely an improvement. We spent the rest of the night drinking laughing and chatting. Greg bought drink after drink for us, trying very hard to buy me round, but there was no need as his whole charisma had got my approval already. Hours passed and at 10 o’clock Greg dropped us home in his little red van. “Well what do you think?” mum asked a soon as she heard him drive away. “He seems ok” I said with a small grin on my face. This date was the first of many.

* * * *

I stared out the window longing for mum to get home before him. But all my hopes were crushed when that little red van pulled up on the drive. I jumped away from the window and huddled my self in the corner of the room. I closed my eyes and wished, hoped even prayed that it wouldn’t happen today. The petrol smell from the garage warned me he was home before I heard his footsteps clunk up the stairs towards my room. I thought I had locked the door. The handle turned. He entered the room and I could tell by the evil grin on his face that he wasn’t here to help me with my homework.

* * * *

I sat her down on the sofa. “Mum I‘ve got something to tell you”. She just looked at me and said “its ok darling. I know already” I stared at her in disbelief “its all part of growing up your finally becoming a women” she finished. I knew where she was going with this “mum i'm not on my period I started that years ago, its about Greg” I interrupted.

“Now look darling I know he is not perfect and I know he has cheated on me but I have forgave him now can we please drop it?

“NO we can’t mum. I’m pregnant!” a weight had been lifted off my chest. But the one in my belly remained.

“What?” mum screamed her voice pierced through me like a needle to ma ears. She stared at me in disbelief.

“You heard mother. I…am…pregnant” my voice shaking as I spoke. The thought she couldn’t understand was unbearable but so two was the reply my deluded mother gave.

“You dirty little slut. Pregnant at 15. You’re no daughter of mine” she said. her voice croaking and dry as she knew this was uncalled for.

“Open your eyes mother, who do you think the father is…”

* * * *

He was walking all alone by the frozen lake. I had come here to do a job and this was my one and only chance to finally repay him for all the trouble he caused. All the pain and suffering me and mum had suffered ever since mum went to bingo. The moon lit up the space around him, like a target for me to hit, as I took my place in the bus behind him. He walked further along the bank and as he passed I knew this was the last time that petrol smell would make my stomach jerk as violently as I just had done. I waited patiently and alone, my only comfort the occasional breeze from the cold winter wind that refreshed my numbing body but then my chance came. I think he must have lent over to se a fish but this was irrelevant as I bolted from the bush. Yelling, hollering and screaming as I went, I made sure my run up was as strong as possible then with all my physical power and the added physiological boost I pushed him into the lake. The ice cracked underneath Greg’s flapping body as he tried in vain to clamber back up. His head went under however determined to fight back, it rose up again. But this battle was already won. I kicked his head to make sure there was no way back. The ice splintered beneath his fingers, as he tried to hold himself above the freezing river water. I watched as his eyes slowly rolled to the back of his head…

Him and I

Last time wasn’t as good as I’d hoped. Things had somewhat changed between us. The atmosphere felt tense, even the sharpest knife couldn’t cut through it but it felt so right.

He sat there, staring at me. When I touched him he was cold; however, his smile was warm. There was something somewhat magical about that night. The butterflies, they were dancing inside me; waltzing perhaps. It felt as if they would just erupt out of my throat carrying everything negative inside of me away. Far away.

I’m stranded in no-man’s land. Fickle, frustrated, frozen… I love Dad but I’m just his puppet: he controls me. Mum’s amazing but she’s always busy with work or friends; she never has time for me. Overcome by a social hierarchy where I am at rock bottom. “Ugly Cow” “Pathetic Loser” they would roar from the school corridors. When everybody fails me, HE is always here beside me.

They’re doing it again. They’re rowing. The joust has begun and I have front row seats- exclusive, you could say. They charge towards each other, shouting the odds. I want to discourage them but I get a kick out of seeing them tear each other apart. After all, they deserve it don’t they? They dismiss my presence in the room as if I’m… nothing. I wish to wake up one morning and see Mum slumped on her bed, her scarlet red beaded necklace draping from her throat. What I would give to see Dad swinging from the bathroom ceiling, his body limp and cold. That sight would be somewhat, beautiful…

There’s only one person I need in my life, the one I truly love and need; him. Everybody else is an unnecessary nuisance. I spend nights convincing myself I can live without him but I surrender and admit that he is everything to me. He is the only one who understands me; he really digs deep down inside me and soothes the emotional pain tearing my heart and soul apart. He ignites my flame when others have blighted it. When he’s not with me, there’s always a mark of him on me: a mark of love.

I need to see him now. I cannot wait any longer my withdrawal symptoms are far more than I can handle. I need to feel his touch. I need to caress his smooth, perfect body. There’s a voice…IT’S HIM! He’s calling me. I’m roaming the house but cannot seem to find him!

I stop. Breathe .Listen. My heart is thudding. I’ve found him. My eyes are widening, pupils dilate. His eyes are glistening, oh how I wish I could live in his eyes. I stroke him, he laughs. I am at ease, I am serene.

Last time wasn’t as good as I’d hoped. Things had somewhat changed between us though, I forgave him. He didn’t fulfill me as much as I had hoped but he made the pain go away. I clasp him and move him all over my body. He touches my wrist, he knows my soft spot. I press him into my veins and watch the blood ooze out- I am one. He is all I need, he soothes all the hatred and fear inside of me. His mark will be with me forever, I will never forget him. A sight like this is truly…beautiful.

And thus, I give all of me

What is love but an infectious plague of the mind? And life, what is life but a sexually-transmitted disease?
I would hate to sound despondent or pessimistic but who are we to pretend we spin on this ball of anguish and hate for a reason, a purpose? There is simply, nothing.

And if my views do come across as ones of a pessimist, well, then I must say, for a pessimist Im pretty optimistic. And I can admit, there was a time - all a distant memory now- when I thought there was more to life, more to death even but as I slowly turn my back on the hyperbolic text of the bible numb my mind from any sort of emotional pain, there is nothing here. Nothing here for us on this ecliptic planet. And the 'after-life' is one of darkness and the stench of your own rotting flesh buried six feet under in a maggot-infested coffin. You live, you die, you rot.

I suppose now would be a good time to explain in more detail about my heart-wrenching experience of this overly-used word, Love. And I suppose I should tell you all about the tears I have shed and the horrid pain I carry locked away inside my chest. You would, of course, pretend to be very sympathetic and say "There, there child, plenty more fish in the sea"
I think I'll spare you, and spare myself.

But nothing lasts forever, right? Feelings for a lover usually fade after they've put on a few pounds or if it's a 'deep' and 'meaningful' relationship, it will drag on for a couple more years until you've run out of conversation and/or get sick to death of the sight of one another. Correct me if Im wrong..
And the love and security you get from a stable, loving family? That could all turn sour too. Step out of line a few times and you'll find yourself spending your days shut up in a cold, gloomy room -not by force, but choice- with only the comfort of your own lonely thoughts and the friendly knife that twinkles in the moonlight reflected on it's inviting surface.

That same knife edge haunts me even now as I write. No holy water can save me now and no priest can forgive my sin. I have a secret, it's eating me from the inside-out, if I don't say anything now, I fear madness will devour what's left of my sanity and cripple my soul.
I killed him.
I plunged the knife into his heart. And as he fell to his knees with a sad, desperate look on his face, I felt a smile spread upon my own. The satisfaction of ripping through his still-beating heart gave me pleasure than no other... at a price. The beautiful mistake haunts my once peaceful dreams which are now filled with screams in the dark and illusions of those sky blue eyes that got me high and those lips that made me soar, These taunting nights leave me hollow and senseless in my wake.
This is me. Forced to live with the mind-numbing guilt and the morbidly over-whelming feelings of ecstasy and delight of having killed my love, my only love. I accept my fate and wait for sweet karma to come back around.

crime of no sight

My heart is pumping. Thudding, pounding, beating faster like a bass drum. I’m panting, gasping, struggling to catch my breath. All I can hear is the blood thumping through my ears and the distant sound of sirens fats approaching, the lower part of my body, moving of its own accord, desperately trying to escape. Questions that I have no answers to are bombarding my mind. Why are they after me? What have I done? Where am I going? Who am I? I don’t know why I’m running; I just know that something in my blood is telling me that I need to get as far away from here as possible. Some may call it a sixth sense, but in my case it’s a fifth.

The unmistakeable sound of loud, punishing thunder is instantly followed by a burst of merciless rain. It comes gushing down in sheets upon sheets, soaking through my clothes, and beating down lashes upon my hunched back. At this moment shelter is the one and only thing on my mind.
All thoughts of shelter vanish as I realize that the sirens behind me don’t seem as far away as they had been before. My only two options? Find somewhere to hide and be protected from the abusive rain as well as my captors; or surrender.
The police are in dangerously close range now, tires screeching, engines roaring, voices yelling: “Oi!” “You!” “Stop right there!” before I know it I’m on my hands and knees, crawling as fast as I can manage without getting injured.
Unexpectedly a sharp pain bulldozes its way through my skull, and the sounds of car doors opening, people running and unknown voices fade into nothing.

I’m startled awake by the sound of a door slamming shut and footsteps coming towards me as I lay on the bed. The unknown person crouches down to my level; “we’ll try this again shall we?”
Immediately I am alert due to the putrid smell of tobacco and stale coffee that invades my nostrils.
“What happened on Friday July 13th at number 3 Frockwed road?”
“I’ve told you once and I’ve told you twice, I don’t know! I’ve lost my damn memory!”
“So are you telling me that you don’t know anything about the pen knife found around your neck when you were caught?”
“What part of memory loss don’t you understand?”
“Fine have it your way” he spits in my ear “but believe me when I say you will talk”, “it’s only a matter of time”.
The door snaps shut and I am left alone once again feeling like a helpless caged bird. I’ve been here for two days now; racking my brain for a solution to the odd and confusing predicament I have found myself in. so far I can tell that I’ve been imprisoned in a small room which has one door, one medium sized window, and a bed. The window is my only means of escape, unluckily for me the window is very high up, I sigh as I hear the beeping car horns and faint voices that come from below.

An overwhelming wave of hopelessness and grief washes over me; it drains me of every ounce of energy left remaining my body. I slump back down on the bed and burry my head in the pillows attempting to imagine that it’s all a dream, and it isn’t long before I doze off.
Memories that have eluded me for the last few days come flooding back, a penknife; my penknife, the unforgettable smell of blood on my hands, the gut wrenching screams for help, I remember it all. My name is Naomi Phillips, I’m 16 years old, and I am faced with the unassailable truth that I have killed my mother.
You may think I’m mad for doing it and I don’t care, I’m proud to say that it was most definitely not an accident.
I remember that ill-fated evening as if it were yesterday. It all began when I was walking past my mother’s bedroom and I heard her sobbing on the phone.
“It’s Naomi… she’s not like the other children”
At those words I freeze, my blood starts to boil, and my heart begins an erratic hammer in my chest. “I’ve tried and I’ve tried but I just can’t- I can’t… love her!”
My lips start to tremble uncontrollably and I feel like a dam has burst inside my head as stinging tears pour down my cheeks.
“I knew I should have given her up for adoption the minute I found out about her condition”
“I don’t think I can take...
My mother didn’t get to finish off the sentence because at that moment all the bitterness, hurt and anger that I’d kept bottled up came exploding out of me like a volcano.

Not having any control over myself I grab the penknife from around my neck and slit her throat, I’m not fazed by her screams of agony or her blood splattering across my face.
I wait until there is silence and as I stand above her lifeless body my shuddering legs give way beneath me as I faint.

I awaken abruptly and sit up on the bed; instantly I am aware that I’m not alone.
“You remember don’t you” growls a gruff voice from the corner of the room, I reluctantly nod my head.
“Why did you do it?”
“Do you have any idea of what it’s like to be blind?”
“Do you know what it’s like to hear about clear blue skies and rainbows but never see them?”
“I’ve learnt to live with it, after all I had no choice, and somewhere deep inside me I think I always knew that my mother couldn’t handle my blindness; I simply decided to put her out of her misery and I have no regrets”.

trust

Trust
Have you ever experienced something so dreadful that every time it crosses your mind, it feels like your heart is being slashed open and you despise yourself for it? No one in their right mind can ever imagine what I went through. That’s why I decided to write this story, to explain my unimaginable past.
3 YEARS EARLIER
HELP! I screamed out continuously, hoping that someone or something would save me. He came out of nowhere and dragged me off the small park bench. He threw me on to the cold, damp, filthy floor and forced his self on top of me. Squashing me. Caressing me. He pinned my hands to the ground and I struggled to get free. The pain of it all was unbearable; it felt like my soul was being pulled out of me. He tore my clothes apart and calmly gnawed his way sickly down me. That’s when he forced down my underwear and I knew what he was going to happen next. He took of his own trousers and I started screaming like I had never screamed before. I tried kicking him, I tried beating him of me, but he was too strong. I just gave up in the end. I felt stupid and useless. I even tried telling the moon to help me, only the moon could’ve saved me. That’s when he did it. That’s when he raped me and changed my life forever.
Why did it happen to me? Why did he have to kiss me patronisingly before he left? The kiss. The kiss had felt very familiar. I couldn’t believe the way he left. Shamelessly. I was left there, all alone, left lying on the cold, muddy grass still in shock from what had happen to me. I was still staring at the malevolence moon, thinking about what I had ever done that was so awful that he couldn’t even save me. Save me from the evil monster.
3 years ago this happened to me. I guess I’m over the trauma of it now. I had a lot of time to find myself again and put the past behind me. Don’t get me wrong I still hate that animal for what he done to me, for what he put me through. It was just another typical day for me that day. I remember that I was really excited, because I was going on a date with this stunning guy that I really liked. Not in a million years would you think that he would be capable of doing something like this.
He had told me to meet him at 6:00 at the park. I remember getting ready from 4:00 and even going to the park 20 minutes early. 1 hour had passed and he still didn’t show up. I still wonder why I didn’t realise that he wasn’t going to show. I guess I really thought he liked me. Instead, I waited for hours. He was still nowhere to be seen.
I can still remember how I spent those hours, reminiscing about him. All the romantic thoughts were pumping around my body with every heart beat. I was just in my own amorous world, full of flowers, romance and exquisite thoughts. I think I was at the park until 1:00 to be exact. I knew it was really stupid to stay at a park for that long especially when it was dark; but it was something I had to do for love, for me. That’s when I turned from being a clean juvenile virgin and had my world shattered to be known as a dirty slag.”Damaged goods”, that’s what my parents called me, before they disowned me, when they found out what had happened to me.
No one understood me. Why couldn’t they see that I was the victim? I would’ve stopped him if I could. He never really said anything to me whilst he abused me.” You fucking slag, you deserve everything you get”. That’s all I remember him saying. I really can’t believe I never recognised his voice. His deep, husky voice. The person I considered the closest and the dearest, did that to me. What had I ever done to him, apart from love him? He really despised me. There’s no other explanation. Why else would he take my life and chew it up and spit it out like it was anything?
Well his really paying for it now. Every ounce of pain and suffering, every drop of water he caused to fall out of my eye, his really paying for it now. They think his nutty. He’s in a mental institution now. I hope he bloody rots there. I hate him, I really do. Now do you understand how I feel? I may sound cold-hearted, but you would only now how I feel if you’re beloved boyfriend raped you and exposed you of all your pride and dignity. Yes, it was Jay who raped me. He was the one who screwed up my life. I knew something like this was going to happen to me. I deserved this for hurting people. I guess getting raped was the only way all the hurt people suffered because of me reflected back to me. The memories of what happened will always remain within me. But I’m happy now. I’m alone. I prefer to be alone, because then I will never have to experience the pain and suffering deceitful humans cause ever again.

Somebody should have held on

So yeah, I was depressed: that was me alone, alone and more alone. At least I put on a marvellous act, one that no one could see through including my mother. But it was hard being a clock without hands; it was hard being something I wasn’t. Everybody knows that no one can keep up an act all their life and not get caught, well I thought everybody knew. Obviously I was wrong.

Six and a half hours of smiling, having conversations about blue skies, boys and butterflies; walking around the school with big burdens on my shoulders that no one was willing to take off was stressful, but I guess I couldn’t blame it on them, how were they supposed to know that smiley, bubbly, lucky charlotte had a demon, one that wouldn’t leave her alone- it more or less had her possessed- but who was I to moan it was the only comfort I had, the only thing that was constantly with me.

I have to admit it got to me. I have to admit that there was an urge inside me to tell someone, an urge to break out and show people the real me, the depressed me. That was the me that no one saw; no one wanted to see. Eventually that feeling overcame me, I couldn’t do it anymore, and it leaked out of me. I couldn’t stop it. I tried, but then suddenly WOOSH it came pouring out – as fast as the Niagara Falls and as painful as being exorcised.

I went back down the next day. I knew it was going to be different; but I didn’t know that the people that once loved, adored, cherished me would no longer even smile when I looked their way. The look changed from an ear to ear grin when they used to see me, to a look of pity; the one look I never wanted to be in the firing line of. I knew they didn’t want to be near me so I set myself a mission, a mission to make distance, and trust me I made distance. I sent them somewhere where there is no return flight home. They wanted distance so I made it for them.

Maybe my decision was harsh, maybe my reaction was harsh, maybe the whole thing was harsh but at the time it seemed like an awfully good idea; it still seems like an awfully good idea. Technically it wasn’t my fault when you have a baby the birth certificate you sign is a short contract just without the small print, you promise to feed your child, look after your child and be there when they need you! My parents weren’t there, they didn’t hold me when I cried, they didn’t ask me how my school day were, sooner or later it just came back round on them. My parents ended up felling the physical pain for a short fifteen minutes that I had to deal with mentally everyday. In a way I helped them, I helped them see where I was coming from and where I was going I helped them find out in fifteen minutes what it would have taken them the rest of their lives to understand. Not everything’s what it seems. I had to do it o only for me but for them.

Since that I haven’t been back. I’ve lived my life without them, without the people I once needed. I’ve now realized I never needed them because I never had them in the first place. I bet they never thought that smiley, bubbly lucky Charlotte would ever make a harsh decision like that, want to be alone or see through their rubbish charade. So yeah, I was depressed that was me alone, alone and more alone, but now I’ll always have something to keep me company on cold, rainy nights.

The Midnight Killer [Task 17a]

The Midnight Killer

It was almost midnight. The moon shinning brightly above his head. Walking steadily along Tomswood hill with music pumping loudly in his ears from his headphones. There was sounds of footsteps, of his own but of someone else’s too however he did not take note of them as the sound in his ears blocked out anything else which may have saved his life.

He walked without turning as he believed nothing was there to be feared of and if there was it would be no threat to him. He took a sharp left into the alley way and within a blink of an eye he saw a glimpse of a hideous face and blinked again this time he was being strangled up onto the wall. A sharp metal feeling piercing the skin on the side of his neck. Blood beginning to leak slowly. Now pain flooding in and blood out. The flesh beginning to rip. Silent screams leaving his throat but being blocked by something covering the mouth.

He felt his life being dragged out of him slowly but surely. The killer as if purposely watching the life being sucked out as if he was enjoying the scene, he wanted it to last. His phone hit the ground with a thud and the music burst out loud and clear. The murderer stopped, waited, heard footsteps and ran into the darkness.

The anonymous passer by was now on the floor in a pool of blood lying by his phone which was producing sound surprisingly loudly. The last thing he recalled before his eyes shut and his senses with them, there was a familiar pretty face and a girl’s soft voice saying

“Kurum, IS THAT YOU?!” The last thought which went through his mind; “what a fantastic question”.

There was darkness. He heard footsteps and some voices in the distance. His eyes opened slowly and the light began to flood in, the ceiling was white, so was everything else it seemed. Questions stampeding his suddenly, he looked to the right then to the left it came upon him that he was in a hospital. There was a face to his left staring down at him with a lot love in its eyes.

“Heya Kurum, You better? Are you feeling oryt? Are you hurt? Do you need anyfin? Should I get you a glass of water?”

“Relax!” He interrupted quickly to silence her.

The questions she shot at his ear fast and hard they seemed to dent a different part of his brain each time they came too however the way they came in had some beauty in it, concerned and anxious. After a second or two of getting his brains together I quickly discovered who the girl was. But that wasn’t his main concern at this point.

Kurum could now see with usual eyesight and everything seemed normal except this awkward stiff feeling on the left side of my neck. His memory began to crawl gradually back, he quickly realised what happened last night, he realised what had happened last night. But why?


The doctor walked in, he had a kind but forceful smile on his face. He seemed to be rather exceptional at putting fake smiles on, as he did this one rather well.

“Glad to have you back with us, Kurum.” He said in his deep ordering voice.

“Glad to be back” Kuram replied “doctor, is there something wrong with me?”


Just as he finished his sentence a swift mysterious feeling suddenly rushed through his body, as if to give out a warning.

“Well, the cut on your neck isn’t the regular cut we deal with. It seems it wasn’t a knife, or any object we can identify. Furthermore your skin had sealed the cut up automatically as soon as u fainted and it’s now as hard as rock. Not only that but… there also seems to be something anonymous in your blood. We need to do further testing before we can discover exactly what it is. In the meantime please relax and do not leave the hospital.”

“DOCTOR, will he be alright?!” Cassandra burst out with a hint of a tear in her eye which she hastily smudged away.

“No need to worry my dear, he’s looks fine to me, don’t you agree?” The doctor replied with a wink.

As soon as the doctor turned and walked off the next thing he knew he was in a great big hug involving him and Cassandra, and she didn’t stop anytime soon either.

“Ok, ok that’s enough I’m fine”

“SHUTUP you were gone for so long! Do you know how worried I was?!”

“IM FINE, really, thanks for taking care of me though” And he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. This seemed to have been the key, as she let him go immediately.

“Thanks” said Kurum

“Your welcome” She replied

“By the way, was it you who found me when I got attacked?”

She hesitated,

“Yep” she replied with uncertainty.

“What the hell were you doing there?”

“I…errr… I… just happened to be passing by”

“AT THAT TIME IN THE NIGHT?! AT THAT PLACE?!”



“… ok well… basically the truth is I followed u… I saw you walk past my house and I told my mum I’m going to get some fresh air but followed you instead” her cheeks were now light red. She looked so cute, I just had to smile.

“Well thank god you did follow me then, otherwise I would have been wearing a black suit with my eyes closed then eh?”






***

11:55 and he couldn’t get any sleep. This urge of running around and doing something dynamic haunting him constantly. The clock struck 12 and suddenly something inside me burst open with fury. It attacked his insides and he couldn’t help but scream out loud. The pain spread around his body fast, he felt something inside himself change. Desperation filled his mind as he frantically tried as many different actions as possible to rid of the pain that tortured him mercilessly but he failed to do so and the pain continued to conquer him and his body continued to change. All of a sudden it stopped, he felt altered, stronger perhaps, upgraded even.

The next morning he woke up back in his bed in the hospital however something had changed, he didn’t feel how he felt two days ago. In fact he felt like a completely transformed person. Problem was… he didn’t know why. Panic steadily arose within him, he looked around hurriedly only to discover that the room was deserted. No one to be seen or heard off anywhere.

He got up, out of bed and walked around. Strangely nothing seemed usually. Once again questions began popping out in his head. Why? What? When? How? Where? He asked himself repeatedly now racking his brain to find explanations however failing miserably.

He sped towards the door and shook the handle wildly. It was locked. Anger mounting up inside him, he screamed out for help but received no reply, he knock the door hard and fast, still receiving no reply, his knocks turned to thumps and soon he found himself in a tantrum. Still no answer to his constant pleading.

He looked around and he found one other escape route, glad to find more hope he quickly relinquished his door plan and moved swiftly on to plan B, the window. The main glitch in plan B was that his room had been built on the 9th floor of the building. However the urge to escape still haunted him madly. He decided he wouldn’t stand around and wait, instead he would go to plan C.

Plan C was quite simply, breaking down the door. Two days ago he would have never even had a thought of trying something so dramatic let alone worrying about escaping in the first place. It seemed something had infected his delicate mind and slowly taken over. Attempt one (a simple run and barge) was a failure yet he tried again, the pain didn’t seem to phase him now, somehow. Attempt 2 (fly kick), like the last attempt he took 4-5 steps back and charged towards the door this time lifting himself into the air (which he found extremely easy somehow) and kicking hard when he thought was appropriate. To his gleeful surprise the door fell flat on the ground alongside him.

Unhurt Kurum rose healthy as ever, and sprinted down the corridor unaware of which direction to go but a feeling inside leading him on, almost like a 6th sense. The hospital suspiciously deserted still. His legs didn’t stop once they reached the staircase instead kept going regardless the fact they had no idea where they were heading. He sensed someone near now, his eye caught a glimpse of a white coat swiftly move down and his ears picked up the slightest sounds of footsteps down below.

“HEY, STOP!” hey cried out helplessly

“WHATS WRONG WITH YOU?!” he added

He got no reply to his ordering questions instead the person seemed to just run faster and faster, even so Kuram didn’t rest. His legs sped down the stairs, he moved like he’d never moved before. While he ran thoughts in his head suddenly occurred one by one, why didn’t he just take the elevators? Why the stairs? Perhaps they weren’t working? When did he learn to run so fast? And why does it feel like he’s being driven by something not himself...

His immense speed proved too much for the poor doctor who was caught with ease. Now was his chance to get answers. But before he could speak;


“PLEASE… don’t… hurt… me…I’m…only…an…old…doctor” The man panted with fear in his eyes.

“What you talking about? Why was a trapped in a room? Where is everyone? What’s wrong with you people? Why were you running from me? Why wouldn’t anybody let me out my room?” Kuram demanded.


“Oh, you don’t know yet, not fully transformed? The reason I ran from you is because last night, at midnight you attacked a doctor and killed her. Its best for me not to tell you all but the reason you were trapped in a room was because you were meant to stay in there until you could control the thing inside you. Obviously it didn’t work.”

“WH… what... ME? I murdered someone? IN MY SLEEP? So what you’re saying is that... I’d been isolated for everyone’s safety? But how’s that gonna help me?!” Rage built up in his veins again; this seemed to be happening a lot now.

The doctor seemed scared and Kuram let him go and he walked hastily out of sight while leaving Kuram to stand there thinking of what next.

Unexpectedly the clock struck twelve and a volcano of fury lashed out from inside him as if it’d been waiting to attack all day. He buckled and found himself kneeling on the floor holding his head in his hands. It all seemed too familiar. He quickly realised it was the same agony and pain he went through last night however this time he’d gotten slightly better at handling it.

He climbed up slowly on to his feet. He felt lighter and so much hungrier, this deadly thirst inside him needed to be attended to urgently. He walked towards the mirror on the wall. What had he turned into? Why did he feel so awkward what’s happened to him? Once he got to his destination he finally realised. It all made sense now. The killings, the blood thirsty feeling, the excruciating pain of every night, the whole hospital fleeing for their dear lives and the reflection in the mirror, which turned out to be; no reflection in the mirror. He’d become a Vampire…

By Faizan Mohammed :P

Task 17a

Painful Love

His eyes were shining bright like the stars in the mysterious dark sky. It was the only thing that I could recall from last night. I don’t know what happened after. Slowly my eyes started to open, and I found myself to be in a room; you would never guess who was staring at me. I thought to myself, I must be in heaven. “Are you feeling alright” he said. I saw the worried look in his face; I think there were tears in his eyes too. I realised that I was in some hospital and the doctor came in to check on me. The thoughts that were running in my mind were unbelievable. He left his scarf lying next to me and went away before I could say anything.

2 weeks later. At the hospital was the last time I saw him. I wonder where he is now. I don’t really know him, yet he is so close to me and is the only person in my mind. Nothing else matters but knowing that we could never be together kills me. I’m going to be in a grave sooner or later, so why fall in love now? I just didn’t understand and neither was I sure if I was really in love or what. Images of him kept flashing in the back of my mind, especially his shining bright eyes: that was a treasure I would bury in my heart forever. I was way too tired to be thinking about all this so I went back to bed.

The sun was shining in the wonderful blue sky. Days and days went by but still no sign of him. Looking in the mirror, I could see my eyes had gone red because I hadn’t been able to avoid crying myself to sleep last night. All this was definitely getting too much for me. I just had to see him one more time and let him know how I felt about him. I couldn’t keep it inside me for much longer or else it would be too late. Most of my time was spent listening to love songs or writing poems; it’s not like there was any meaning to my life. Expect one and that was the love I had for him.

There was a knock at the door and it felt like I was going to get the second biggest shock in my life. “Come downstairs, there is someone who wants to see you,” shouted my mum. I thought to myself if only that was him. I wished it was but that wish could never come true. Still with the hope that I wanted the person to be him, I slowly went downstairs. To my surprise there was a tall boy standing at the door, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. He turned out to be my one and only love’s friend; he had sent him to me so that his friend could give me a letter. Why didn’t he just come himself? That was the question in my mind. But I was so excited that I didn’t really care about that for now. I ran to my bedroom as fast as I could and sat on my bed.

I was shivering so much that the letter nearly fell out of my hand. But I got it open at the end, just couldn’t believe it and when I started to read it, tears fell down my cheeks.

Hi…

Sorry for leaving you without saying anything last time but I had my reason. Hope you are feeling better now and I need to tell you something really important; can’t keep it inside me anymore, it has been haunting me ever since I met you. I just wanted to say that if possible would you please meet me by the park, near the lakeside tomorrow at 2pm. I really need you and I know we just met for a little while but it feels like we have known each other for years.

Hope to see you there. Love Jay.

Did he love me too? Emotions were flooding in me like a river. I stayed up all night and watched the stars in the sky, ‘will tomorrow ever come or will I be gone by then?’ No one can understand the pain I am going through right now. I was going to tell him that we can’t be together because before anything can happen, I’ll be in heaven by then. My heart was broken but I couldn’t bear the fact I was going to break his.

I went to the lakeside and I was a few minutes early. Was this the right thing to do? I thought to myself; I can’t let him be with someone like me. He has his life ahead of him and I can’t be in that life of his. There he was, coming towards me with a bunch of roses in his hand. What do I do now? His happiness was mine. I decided to walk away and leave him there. I had to see my only love disappointed but I couldn’t help it, this was going to be the best for us. He had to move on with his life and I had to live mine as long as I could. My happy days came to an end sooner that I thought but my love for him will never end.

Jay didn’t seem to be happy though. Silence surrounded him like a spider’s web. Every morning he would go to the lakeside and sit there. As if his life ended. Love can be so painful...so cold.

Task 17a - OPTIONAL task (Year 10 and Year 11 ONLY)

Since it is holiday time, and some of you might, perish the thought, be at a loose end at times over the next fortnight, I am setting you an EXTRA task. This is OPTIONAL, and should be done AS WELL AS (and NOT instead of) Task 17.

The task is simple. Most of you will have recently completed a draft of your Original Writing coursework for your GCSE folder, and I thought it might be a useful exercise to post your draft on wordvoodoo, so that your guest moderator(s) can comment on that too. Not only will this give you yet more feedback on that draft, enabling you to improve on it still further before I mark it (should you wish to do so), but it will also give your moderator(s) an added opportunity to get to know you even better as a writer.

Just make sure you: a) give it a title; b) label it properly (Task 17a); and c) get rid of any careless errors before you do so.

Try to do so as soon as possible if you are going to do so, to give them the best possible chance of commenting in time.