Hollow Woods the Awakening of the Angel

Hollow Woods

The Awakening of the Angel

Book #1

by Suzannah Dunston

Smashwords Edition

Published by

Suzannah Dunston on Smashwords

Copyright ©2014 by Suzannah Dunston

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For my girls: Anni, Charmaine, and Symone.

Also Tyler, Emmily, Kaiya, Paige and Chelsea.

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my Sister Anni, for her support and encouragement. Many thanks to Charmaine and Symone’s support and their commitment to the background work in creating this story and for the use of their beautiful faces also thanks to my Father Anthony and Aunt Antoinette.

This novel was written in 2001 more than a decade ago as with that follows two other books The Re-awakening and The Dominion of the Dark Realm. Many thanks also in creating this trilogy which I am truly grateful to my Daughter Symone.

All poetry, Illustration’s and script was created by Suzanne inspired by that of my youth. I wanted to thank my family for the love that they have given over the years and the thoughts offered that have encouraged me to step over that threshold.

— Suzannah Dunston.

Synopsis:

Hollow Woods

The Awakening of the Angel

(book #1)

Anaka Dunsten knew nothing of the power and fury, lying dormant within her soul, no one was aware for she was often portrayed by many as that of an Angel.

From the day of her birth her life was filled with intrigue, mystery, hatred and vengeance of ghosts and entities, some so evil that it would crack the very foundations of her world.

Travel with her through time as she discovers that of a secret realm concealed within a hindering riddle. It shall indeed hold the key in which to unleash a tremendous force for which you will not be prepared and will most certainly render you speechless.

This seemingly harmless riddle will set about a chain of events in which shall transform her life forever; as she approaches the time of her ‘awakening’ which may even choose her path without knowledge or consent.

Perhaps you will be the one to unravel the riddle and discover how it is that she shall prevail, or you could find yourself hoping that she decides upon another path for fear of her falling into darkness.

All the while lurking within her realm is the insidious presence of a creature so vile it will send chills up your spine, consuming your soul, and leaving you breathless. Can she discover his treacherous plot, and destroy him before he can thrust his unsolicited revenge upon this realm?

This is a gripping story of a young girl’s battle for survival, as her journey leads her into the unknown, with capabilities that go way beyond that of a normal human being. Her courage and endurance will set the path for others to follow as she makes the transition from child to adult against all odds.

Her story will touch and intrigue you, with its supernatural qualities and bizarre twist which is guaranteed to shock you. In addition parts of her story have been found to be true, those parts I will leave up to you to decide!

This is not your typical "I was an abused child’ story, some parts are very disturbing, shocking and filled with extreme sorrow yet uplifting, inspiring and very powerful.

This novel is not intended for the weak at heart as there are disturbing scenes with sexual violence, horror, murder, betrayal and explicit material

Intended for ages 18 and above.

— Suzannah Dunston

Prologue

Darkness now turns to light as if newly born to the world outstretching my arms to greet the dawn of this glorious new day.

I take my first steps slowly onto the dirt track pulling my cloak across to warm my face in the wake of my newly found freedom holding within slight apprehension of my formidable past. Upon arriving at this alluring place I notice a sign loosely hanging from within its confines bound by chains and offering a peaceful yet unusual nature.

The thunderous sounds echoing from within the heavens remind me of dark times long before as I gaze into the captivating vision, the sun beating upon a dew pond offering a shimmer of hope. I stand now as if I hold the world within my embrace and the hope of a single interlude which lingers deeply within my mind.

Obscure clouds travel swiftly across the sky a feeling of being held within fate, lingering above me and covering our beloved life bringer robbing me of the warmth that I so desperately desire and offering a chill upon the breeze as it sweeps within my path.

Again the deafening sounds bellow out from within the blackness of the night a dark beast baring lengthy strides thundering towards my destiny.

I stand tall towards a new hope, a sanctuary, grasping it within my hands as the lightening hits my realm with tremendous fury driving me to kneel upon the floor, exploding as it enters my being forcing me to except its power.

I embrace it with uncertainty as it appears as if an offering, that of a new light hidden within my soul, an un-welcomed and unforeseen torment lying dormant within my womb. I feel it crawling under my skin as if awaiting its moment to strike with such ruthlessness even more powerful than that of the lightning.

Light again turns to darkness as I lie within the boundaries of the cold harsh earth and as it would seem, closing my eyes for the very last time.

Chapter One: the Inauguration.

They stand silent in a circle round,

At the touch of this being they now become bound.

The truth is there of innocence so real,

That no one should tarnish or enter the wheel.

So be gone those with thoughts of power,

For none shall touch the withered flower.

Only the selected shall enter this place,

He is governed by hell, with a mask for a face.

Anaka Dunsten

Chapter 1

The Inauguration

It is the winter of a new year, the sun shines brightly as it embraces the land like a warm blanket, covering your entire body. The dawn of a new day, I managed to catch a glimpse of its magnificence as I lay within the confines of my hospital room. Here where I am to spend at least a decade of my adult life, like an old flame cast aside as no longer desired.

I was institutionalised for the irrational actions of my youth, to Rucks ford Hospital, a home for the bewildered. A mental institution, where once you entered it was rare that you were ever released. The exact whereabouts of this establishment was not revealed unto me, as I was unaware of my faculties on the eve of my admission.

This room which became my abode for many years consisted of four concrete brick walls, one window which held heavy wrought iron bars, a toilet and a bed. Much the same as that of a prison cell, only I could in fact see the morning sun, and feel it’s warmth upon my face.

As I lay here isolated, finding a sort of comfort in that, and often thought to myself; ‘I must be the only living creature on this planet this very day,’ trying to convince myself that it was true! I had become accustomed to being alone, as this is how I was to spend the majority of my natural life.

Although there was an abundance of life forms around me, they would come into my life and leave like the tides. Touching me briefly but never really joining, much the same as the connection between the sand and water. Only ever leaving behind small fragments, as a brief reminder that we had in fact at once stage relied upon each other in order to sustain life. Whether it be for the good of me or not was irrelevant, as there were only a selected few who would leave a scar upon my soul, so deep I would carry it until death.

I somehow enjoyed the fact that their stay was brief, as it made my life feel much less complicated. Trying to keep up with the responsibility of sustaining the bonds between two souls often became a chore. Perhaps I was just not good at juggling too much at once, or, it was just the ones I had chosen to associate with. It would be a constant drain upon my presence, both physically and emotionally.

I had on several occasions enjoyed the company of others, even though they would seek a small part of me, still feeling a sense of satisfaction and worthiness in giving. However, always found myself straying back to the confines of my solitude. There was to be only one, with whom I could share myself completely.

I would introduce myself to you as ‘Anaka Dunsten,’ which became my name later in life. The one my Mother chose for me seemed inadequate, limp with no life or meaning so I have chosen not to disclose the truth of what it was that she had named me.

We lived in the small town of Tannum Sands, about an hour’s drive from Gladstone in Queensland Australia. However, this was not the place of our birth, and being so young at our arrival to this country, I held vague recollection of home. We were told at times that we came from European ancestry. This would explain my accent, which I often altered to suit the company I occasionally kept.

It is now twenty-eight years prior to Rucks ford that I start my recollection of events that would come to pass.

I was the child of Paul and Sara Dunsten, they shared between them four children.

Ayden, the eldest of the four by nearly five years, who found joy only when riding his motorbike that fast that he would fly, ignoring such details as gravity. He was tempted by the speed of motocross, and the precision and discipline of trials. It was to be his passion. He was a solid boy, with dark brown eyes, and always seemed to wear some kind of motorbike tee-shirt, no matter what the weather.

Rebecca was the first born of twins. Who was constantly sick up to the age of six, and always demanded the attention of others, me in particular. She possessed a talent for the arts, and would go on later in life to write books for children. She was a joy to be around, and possessed a bubbly outgoing personality with the same build as myself. We called her Becky for short.

Then there was me, Anaka, who found comfort and happiness in the written word. I would bury myself within the hollow pages of a book, and not surface for hours. I have blue eyes, which always drew the attention of others, as they reminded them of a crystal clear pond, or so they implied. I was a small fragile creature physically, but possessed an inner strength that more often than not intimidated most who came in contact with me.

In my early years, I resented the fact that I was young. The adult world to me was one of mystery and intrigue, as I would often observe the manner in which adults portrayed themselves to each other, finding their actions amusing. Days were spent, reading about others perceptions of life and love, even at the tender age of six. I would disguise it as a nursery rhyme should anyone see fit to question what I was reading. I was very mature in the mind for my age, as if I had a very old soul.

Younger brother Michael was the baby, who was a joy to be with but somehow always a bit sad. He would ride around on his little plastic motorbike, imitating the actions of his older brother. He too demanded my attention, for he was still very young and impressionable.

Then of course, ‘my Mother,’ an eccentric creature, who was born somewhere in the late thirties. From what I can gather an abused child or perhaps just very selfish. She was a stern woman, with jet-black flowing hair, which reached her buttocks. She always had it pulled back in some sort of bun.

Her arms and hands were strong and big built, as was the rest of her body. She possessed vocal chords that would send demons back from whence they came, and her sneer was equally disturbing.

Her face was old and wrinkled and she implied that child birth had robbed her of her youth, and deep brown eyes, which told the story of a withered child.

I was six years old, my birthday in fact. I do not recall having a birthday party, as most parents provided for their children. I was the middle child of four, and Mother never seemed to find the time. This day however, Mother allowed my twin sister Rebecca, to have some friends over at her request, in some sort of half-baked effort to make the day tolerable for her. I requested nothing from Mother, as it usually had a price tag attached to it.

This also applied to the whole of my life, and I soon learnt that for every action, there was a positive and or negative reaction. Nothing was for free, not even the love from a Mother.

I was doing what any normal child of six would do; talking to my imaginary friends’ I would sit for hours talking to them and imitating their actions, and as it seemed to others, talking to myself. Many of the children at school found me to be odd, and avoided contact with me much of the time whispering comments of ‘she is so strange and thin’ as they walked past.

The children who had gathered on this day however, requested my presence as they proceeded to play childish games like, musical chairs. This sort of activity even at the age of six, made me feel very uncomfortable and I looked upon it as a waste of valuable time.

I was much more interested in reading, and sitting alone to think. I would however humour my sister, and sometimes join in, much to my discomfort. Rebecca was a loud child always demanding the attention of others; she had a warm heart, despite our upbringing, and gave a lot of herself to others. She hated being alone, and at night sometimes she would crawl into my bed. I resented that, as I loved to be alone, I could not understand why she had this need.

I watched for a moment as the group of girls ran around in circles and began to play what they called, ‘Ring a Ring of Roses.’ I drifted into a place where the symbol of a circle held comfort for me, so I contemplated joining in. one of the girls grabbed me up by the hand, to complete the ring. The bond between us made me feel very anxious, as I looked upon her hand resting in mine, and immediately I felt sick at her grasp.

Flashes of light began striking my brain at a million miles per hour; a huge lump arose within my throat, now finding it difficult to breathe upon closing my eyes I witnessed glimpses, visions if you will of her life. The image revealed to me was that of a book, held before me and the pages being turned one by one. With each page that turned it gave me the feeling of being struck by lightning, as it hit my mind with tremendous force causing my body to jolt forward with the impact.

To others it would have appeared as if I were being lashed repeatedly by an un-seen force my hands bound within their embrace. Witnessing this sight several of the children tried to release themselves from their bonds their faces held with fear, as they struggled trying desperately to escape I opened my eyes and glared at them in a disturbing manner as if to suggest ‘do not let go!’ immediately they regained their position held within this now almost tranquil scenario. The pain lessened as then the images went on to reveal a story, beginning at her birth.

A kind and beautiful Mother figure, softly spoken and with obvious love for the child came to mind, and there was much joy within her world. But that would be tarnished, as misery and torment also governed her realm, and I felt moved by her sadness and a little glad at the thought of someone else sharing in my misery. For visions came to me of an evil man, who haunted her nights, then her Mother would be there to comfort her days. This scenario was much the same as my world, only in reverse as we continued to move in circles, almost in a trance like state.

I could not seem to escape the girl’s grip, despite that fact that she was not holding tightly. It somehow felt as if we were joined together, like a foetus still using the umbilical cord to sustain its life within the womb, and with that I then passed out.

This was to be the first time that this had happened to me with such severity, at the touch of another being, but certainly not the last. Throughout my life I would learn, that I was to be touched only by particular people. For others seemed to share horrifying dreams and visions with me that not only could I not understand or grasp at such a young age, but would almost certainly make me feel ill.

I awoke within my bed, to reveal a sharp pain upon the left side of my cheek. Mother was slapping me furiously about the face, screaming at the top of her voice. Wake up and stop this nonsense, you are upsetting the guests! Not to mention the trouble I have gone to organising this for you both, you ungrateful little bugger!! Now, get back downstairs and help, and do you think just for once you could actually join in, so Rebecca can have a good time, you selfish girl!

You are lucky it was Ayden who brought you upstairs, or I would have smacked you for your tantrum, throwing yourself to the ground like that, just because you don’t want to play!

She stood to her feet and walked away, then turned back to face me. Now, hurry up! she then left the room. I slid to the edge of my bed, and then stumbled onto the floor. Leaving my room and heading towards the front door, I leant hard against the doorframe, holding onto my head. It was pounding; as if my brain had become loose, I guess it was from the fall that I had taken.

I dragged my limp body to the top of the stairs, which led from the front veranda of the entry to the house, Staggering somewhere between a conscious and semi-conscious state. The house was built on stilts, and was a good climb up and down. I managed to maintain my faculties, as I arrived at the first of the stairs. I would count them as I descended, One, two, three, four, five, missing ‘six’ as at this time that was my age and I did not want it to be.

I longed to be a grown up, I wanted to be a beautiful young woman, standing at the threshold of maturity, and gazing upon the world in all of its splendour. I arrived at the last four steps out of twenty-four, when Mother came from behind as if from nowhere and helped me down the last of them, landing with a thud. Ooops She exclaimed with a smirk upon her face, You are so clumsy!

She then ran ahead of me like that of a spoilt child, as the parents of the guests had arrived and needed to be greeted. They had come to collect their children, as the party had come to an end, much to Rebecca’s disappointment. I approached Mother and proceeded to mumble. This was not my party, so why is it that you say you did it for me?

Mother replied. Well, you don’t have any friends, so what can I do about that, besides it’s your birthday too. And you should be involved in these things anyway, after all, who at the age of six reads the way you do, and spends so much time alone. It’s not healthy or normal! Anyway Anaka, it’s beside the point whether or not I did it for you, I actually did it for myself, so I could get together with some of the ladies. However, we will say it was for you as well, otherwise what would your Father say if he learnt it was just for Rebecca, for that matter if he heard the truth, not that either of you deserve it, but I just thought,

She paused for a moment. And with that I actually felt that she was going to consider my feelings for once. And perhaps say something that would lead me to believe, that even in the smallest measure, she did possess feelings of love for me.

Now Anaka, go away and stop bothering me, go and clean up the mess you have made!

No, I was wrong!

Mother always spoke as if to get her message across in a hurry, perhaps as a child she was ignored constantly, and when she finally drew the attention of another, she would desperately try to get it all out, without a breath in between.

I looked around me, the mess was horrendous. I had to ensure that even the confetti was plucked out of each blade of grass. It took me two hours to clean up the yard; Rebecca had gone to have a sleep, as the day’s activities had drained her of energy. She had a bad heart, and when over exerted she could not function properly. It always worried me, her illness, and I would try to comfort her to ease her suffering.

She had also developed a rather bad slouch. I guess it was demonstrated to all, as the burdens she would carry through life, often weighed her down, Mother would scold her, and encourage her to straighten herself. After I finished the yard, Mother instructed me to watch Michael downstairs, as at the time he was only three years old and not yet ready to be left to his own devices.

I sat upon the bottom step with my elbows resting upon my knees holding the weight of my head as it still ached and watching him for the longest time, trying to understand what had happened to me on this day at the touch of that girl.

Why did I have those feelings at her touch? Why did Mother not care that I had fallen? Did she not take notice of what had transpired, or did she truly believe I did it on purpose? Mother proceeded to entertain the ladies who had lingered after the party. Michael was riding around in a circle on his bike, making a track in the dirt within the foreground of our property.

He did this with such precision, the track now almost perfect in diameter and width, became like an obsession to him and he needed to complete his task, which brought us to nightfall. I believed that he was destined for the same life as Ayden, or perhaps, he would be some kind of architect like Father.

Mother was then ready to go inside. The ladies left and she ordered me to go upstairs and fix the dinner. I hated the fact that I had no time for me. All of this however did not affect my performance at school, any of it. I loved to learn, and was well ahead of the students of my year.

The class Rebecca and myself attended accommodated for grades ‘one’ through to ‘six’ and held around forty students at a time. I was always more interested in the teachings of the older students as opposed to what us year one people were to be taught. Some of the older girls would allow me to take copy of their notes, and I would study them at lunch. That was of course, when I was not busy in the library, reading of ghosts, entities and poltergeists. Which I held a keen interest in; as I aged they became a big part of the events in which were to follow.

My Father, a good looking man, tall, thin, but has good tone. Crystal blue eyes, and possessed the voice of a god. He too had dark hair, Rebecca, Michael and I were gratefully endowed with his good looks, but our hair was blond, and for the girls, it remained that way.

Father often referred to me as his angel; saying that I reminded him of such a creature. Ayden however had the look of Mother, dark hair, deep brown eyes and a bad temperament. Father was to be at times my savour, even though he was probably not aware of it.

It was around seven thirty when Father arrived home, and he looked tired and frustrated from the day’s events. He worked with a company by the title BHP, and Shell on the oil refineries, and held a much respected position. He was to draw plans to erect such structures, some so tall I swear that they must have reached the heavens.

He commanded a crew of around three hundred workers, and was to be the sole provider for the family, spending long days and nights at the office. This none the less, ever stopped him of enquiring of our day’s events, with real interest in his voice, and treating Rebecca and I with a gift for our birthday. Thank you a radio between us how thoughtful! I muttered to myself. Not that I was really ever interested in such things, but that was beside the point.

Why can we not have one each? I exclaimed, Why is it that we must share everything? I yelled in a very displeased manner. "We are two different people,

Father and fail to see why it is that we are treated as one!" Crossing my arms and frowning in order to announce my displeasure.

We were made to dress the same, which was Mothers idea of a joke, share our clothes and toys, in which we had very little of anyway, we even shared the same room. It is not healthy, Father, we shall grow depending upon each other forever! I scolded with a very discontented look upon my brow.

I just wanted my own identity, and not to be regarded as one person. Even though, it became very apparent that Rebecca and I were in fact very different.

My Father replied in a hushed tone, Your Mother thought you would appreciate it! which gave away the fact that she was once again responsible for the torment that she so liberally inflicted upon us daily.

Mother then called me over to her. How many times do I have to say it, you are twins, and you should share, stop upsetting your Father, now, go to bed you ungrateful child! I was sure that, that wretched woman did these things deliberately just to upset me, even though Becky truly enjoyed people making comments like, ‘Now which one is which?’ and, ‘Oh, they are so alike aren’t they, I can’t tell them apart!’ their very words irritated me to no end.

I went to bed, and could hear how my comments created the entertainment for this evening. My Mother now screaming at Father, See what I have to put up with! If it’s not one it’s the other, after all that I do for them!! And Father trying desperately to defuse the situation. Calm down dear! He never seemed to raise his voice above that of a soft gentle breeze.

Mother proceeded to go on for hours of how she has had such a hard day, in fact, a hard life, always blaming the children for her misfortune. Guilt swept upon me like a wire brush, gnawing at my skin, and then seemed to find a small hole and grated upon my soul.

I slid down off my bed, and slowly, walking across the wooden floorboards of my room, trying ever so hard not to let them hear me. At any moment, the floorboards would creak, giving away the fact that I am not where I should be.

Opening the bedroom door, I then peered through the crack; Mother was pacing around Father, and him watching her intently. I crept out quietly, so as not to startle her, and with a deep breath, I approached them both to apologise for my rudeness. Mother glared straight at me as I neared her, it felt like daggers, tearing at my flesh. What do you think you are doing, I put you to bed you naughty girl, now go back to your room, it’s late and you should be asleep!

I raced over to Father, to give him the biggest hug. It never hurt me when I embraced him, and I felt safe and warm wrapped up within his arms. I would breathe him in so deeply, as I loved the smell of his aftershave. His embrace to me was that of sitting before a fire, wrapped within a blanket on a cold winter’s night, and sipping upon a cup of hot chocolate, while smelling the aroma, as it is released from within the cup.

What is it Anaka? He spoke in a hushed tone, as I pondered upon my response I held him even tighter, as if I were to be punished for daring to defy her. I wanted to apologise Father, Mother, I did not mean to upset you. I spoke with an uncontrollable jolt in my voice. Father replied. It’s alright, don’t worry yourself, Mother has just had a trying day, that’s all, what are you so afraid of girl? looking upon me with worry held within beautiful his eyes. Nothing! as I glared up at her, she responded with death stares.

Her look then changed, as Father glanced at her. She now had an expression of forgiveness, written all over her obtrusive face. Mother answered. Yes girl, its fine, your Father and I have sorted it out. Now go back to bed please. I gave Father the tightest hug, as if it would be the last, and walked passed Mother slowly, to go to my room. Mother grabbed me and also gave me a hug; I suppose she wanted to show off in front of Father, as she rarely showed any of us, any sort of affection.

My body shook with a chill giving me the feeling of thousands of needles piercing through my skin all at once as if someone had plunged me onto a bed of nails within her embrace leaving me feeling faint with the agony. I drifted off into another realm held within in a spell, trying to disperse even the idea of her touching me let alone embracing me in such a manner.

It has been this way since before I can remember, as Father would enlighten me with stories of my infancy, and how I cried endlessly whenever Mother held me, in order to feed and tend to my needs. I would stop crying only when Father held me, or, for whatever reason I was released from her embrace. This feeling was to accelerate at an alarming rate, after that first encounter with the girl child at the party, and grew much stronger and more powerful as I aged.

I pulled firmly from her grip said goodnight, and started towards my room in a half walk half run stride. Do not even try to run in this house young lady! Came a stern voice, which echoed within my brain, and then seemed to do laps and would linger for the whole night so I slowed down my pace, closing the door behind me.

I hurried up to my bed, jumped in and laid there looking out of the window at the moon for the longest time. It appeared to have a glazed look about it and I felt a comfort in knowing that tomorrow night it would be fully waxed, much like the fog covering the early morning. This haze would surround the circumference of the moon, just days before the full moon.

Sometimes in my dreams, I would see a strange woman wearing a long very light blue hooded cape, she was always kind and gently spoken, and I never wanted to wake when I dreamt her, shortly after the fighting stopped and both my parent’s went to bed.

As I mentioned before, I would often receive visits from imaginary friends. They would come and go quite often, and later seemed to play a big part in my life; they were all quite welcome as they never felt the need to hold or touch me. Mother would often find me talking to no one, and would make comments and refer to them as ‘ghosts’. She instilled thoughts into my mind. They have come to take over your soul, as you are a bad girl, and that’s what happens when you are bad!

But these words however, never deterred me from having a great interest in all that they betrayed to me, along with the fact that they would seek to entertain me. They would often arrive in either a frightening or comical way which never seemed to scare me, either by the sound of a horse and cart, or perhaps the cold harsh sound of chains rattling within the blackness of the night. This would depend on who they were, and what death had befallen them.

Some would vanish quickly; others would leave slowly, disappearing within an eyrie mist or a fresh breeze. I was surprised that no one else would hear them as they entered, and I would look around the room, to see if anyone else reacted to their arrival, giving me the impression that they were all within my mind and that perhaps it was me being crazy.

Although sometimes it seemed that Rebecca might have heard something on the odd occasion, as she seemed to be frightened of the dark. Perhaps too that could just have been her age. One of those whom often visited, almost seemed real, his name was Paul. He would come to me as if he were board and had nowhere else to be. To me he was just another child, but he did speak of things that a child would not understand, it took me a number of years to figure him out.

The next morning as I awoke, I proceeded to ready myself for school. Rebecca was already dressed as her nightie was neatly tucked under her pillow, and she was more than likely out having breakfast. I left the room to find that the kitchen was empty. I called to Becky, no answer, Michael, Ayden, where are you?

Mother I yelled out as I darted in and out of the rooms, looking for a life form. No one was home, had I slept that late? Why did no one awaken me? I gazed at the timepiece upon the wall, it read eleven o’clock. Then I looked out the front, Mother was out there talking to the lady next door. I went to go down the stairs, and Mother then turned towards me, in a stern tone she yelled. Wait there young lady, I will be with you in a moment!

It was at that moment that I thought that perhaps she had let me sleep in, as last night’s activities would have no doubt exhausted me. As she climbed the stairs she proceeded to say. The others are at school, I have kept you home today as I have plans for you, and they involve helping me.

She reached the top of the stairs, and as she passed me, she grabbed me by the arm and flung me around to face the door, and then she started to hit me across the back of the head. This is for your performance last night!

She threw me into the doorway, and I landed upon the floorboards with a thud, sliding a bit, as I looked up at her with fear. How dare you embarrass me like that in front of Father? Now, wait there you little shit, just don’t move. She went into the kitchen and grabbed the jug cord. I will teach you to be ungrateful! With those words, she started to beat into me with the cord; I never cried or showed any emotion ever, while she had her way with me. I felt that I did not want to give her the satisfaction of my sorrow. That part of me, as well as other secrets I would keep from her, as I never wanted her to have any special part of me to be at her mercy.

It was bad enough that my body was exposed to her; there was little I could do about that, she was not to have any part of my mind or feelings. I just buried them, or perhaps I gave them away, as most of the time I felt quite empty. I cared not, as long as they were not exposed to the likes of her. If Beck were here, she would beg me to cry, as she found over the years that if you cried, Mother would stop hitting you.

She beat me until my legs bled, and not until then would she release me. After she had administered the punishment she gave me my chores for the day. I so wanted to die, or even just go to school with the others, anything to get away from her. I had to do the washing, make the beds, dust and also scrub the toilet.

Mother came back a while later. After you are done, you may watch the TV while I go to pick Michael up from day care. I hated television; it always made me feel like it drained the life out of you. Oh, also, get dinner ready, I will be back late and I want it ready for when Father gets home, he will be here at six-thirty.

I had trouble reading the clock. Every time I glanced at the timepiece, which hung loosely from a nail in the kitchen above the sink, it would deceive me and always display ‘Eleven o’clock.’ I therefore had no real concept of time, so six-thirty to me meant nothing.

I would use the sun and moon as indication of the hour, the other children would tell me what time it was. I also measured it by what they were watching on television, and as I aged I became quite good at it, missing the exact time by only minutes.

Do not leave the house or I will punish you again. She shrilled. "Oh, and you had better not tell Father either, or tomorrow you will cop the same thing, and when Rebecca comes home, you can