Unravelling the Truth - Zoe Etherington (ereader with android TXT) 📗

Prologue

These were the times. The times I wish I would never have to put up with my life.
My head was killing me as I woke with a start. Like there were many little people inside my skull all shouting and banging to get out.
Minutes later I shot up, making my head spin even more in the process and reached over to the pink bed side cabinet. Sliding open the top drawer, I grabbed a pack of pain killers and threw two of the light blue ovals into my mouth. I forced them down my throat, making me feel the need to choke, but I managed to keep them down and stay silent.
I then lay back down, hoping for the pain to disappear and for sleep to take me away. I had a side thought knowing sleep was for the impossible. I knew this because of the hushed but shouting voices coming from down the narrow, orange lit landing that led to my bedroom door.
“We have to get rid of her,” hissed my step-mum, Bella.
“We can’t. Kileshia is our daughter!” John replied with anger in his voice.
Trying to take my thirteen year old ears away from the conversation, I realized I couldn't. These conversations were the norm of my life ever since I could remember and from experience I knew this was the last couple of days, weeks if lucky of being with this couple. Moving from foster family to foster family was my life before Bella and John and now it was going to start again. This place has been my home since I was ten years old and it was going to hurt to say good-bye to it. I felt loved, cared for, but now all I felt was that I was disowned.
As soon as that thought popped into my head, the door creaked open sending in a flash of orange into the inky black room. Coming in was John followed by Bella. I quickly closed my eyes so I could pry on their conversation.
“We can’t just get rid of her; you know it will kill her.” John loved me with all his heart. It was evident in his eyes. Like a father loving his biological daughter even though I wasn't.
“We have to think what’s best for the baby, our baby!” Bella also loved me but right now her heart was in her womb were her real child was developing.
“Shhh, you’ll wake her up and Kileshia is our daughter and a part of this family and if you don’t like that, then why did you sign the papers?”
“I know that she is a part of this family, but right now, I have to think of what’s best for my baby and in seven months we will have a little boy or girl and I want what is best for it. If that means getting rid of Kileshia I would because she is going to wake it up every night with her screaming because of her fake nightmares.”
“We don’t know that she is faking them!”
“I know she is and you know it deep down. We went to the doctors and he said there is nothing wrong with her.”
The nightmares that haunt me twenty-four/seven were real and lately they had been getting worse. All of one thing: a battle of mythical creatures. I tried everything to get rid of them: sleeping with relaxing music; going for a run two hours a day to get rid of stress; going to the doctors to get told I was faking them. And now the parents I thought loved me are getting rid of me just because of them. Great! I thought, sarcastically.
“Look, I know you love her. Believe me, I do too… but we have to think of what’s right for the baby and… it may be good for her,” Bella started again less frustration in her voice. John gave her a dirty look once she said that comment.
“I mean… her nightmares,” She said the word with an edge to her voice. “They might be something we’re doing, and maybe if she’s in another home they might get better.” She put her hand up to stop her husband from replying to her “Just think about it.”
With that, Bella kissed John on the cheek and with the sound of light footsteps; I knew that she just left my room.
I felt John sitting at the end of my bed for a while, his heavy breathing matching the same as my heartbeat. By this point, I had closed my nosy ears and was falling in and out of sleep.
“I love you, Kileshia,” He whispered in my ear and tucked me in bed while kissing the top of my head.


~*~

This is it. I was leaving. I grabbed my rucksack full of clothes, money, and food and slung it over my right shoulder. I curled my right fingers around the strap so it stayed in place. I reached for the gold door handle, opening the bedroom door while darkness surrounded me. I didn't look back. I didn't want to. I was too scared of the tears threatening to fall from my bright blue eyes. I gingerly crept down the wooden stairs, hoping that the floor boards wouldn't creak like they usually did and wake the household. Luck was on my side. I got to the hall at the bottom of the steps when the crying began, but I didn't look back as I heard Bella and John run across the landing into the five month old little boy’s room to comfort it. I knew he would be loved; it wasn't adopted and had his parents. He was lucky.
I stepped out of the front door. The cold January wind pinched my cheeks and nose as I pulled my winter coat and fluffy cream scarf closer to me. My black walking boots made the snow beneath my feet crunch as I carried on walking, forgetting about the scene of the screaming baby. It was gone, history, I was beginning my new life again.
I walked for hours, not knowing what to do or where to go. My mind wondering back and forth, memories of the house I just came from, to the people in there, to when the baby was born, and then it repeated like a broken record. It was nearly a year since Bella stopped loving me. John was great but only when she wasn't around to witness it. He took me out sometimes to the shops or some crappy museum and it felt like the old times, the only difference was that my step-mum wasn't there.
I reached under a vacant bridge and collapsed against the cold concrete wall. Tears started to build blurring my vision. A car zoomed past, filling the tunnel with light for a split second. As the headlights went across the wall, graffiti was placed all around the tunnel of different colours there was a bundle of names, phrases, and pictures filling the dark space it soon faded as the car left.
I finally noticed my tears had leaked over the walls as I felt the coldness run down my cheek. It entered my mouth, leaving a salty taste on my lips. I soon started to feel drowsy as my eyes began to glue together and I couldn't open them no more. My head hit the floor and I finally slept. The last thought was these were the last tears I would ever shed.


~*~
It’s been a month. A month of freedom. A month with no tears but also a month of loneliness. A month of depression. I changed my appearance a lot from cute pink skirts and dresses to rock shirts and overly baggy jumpers. My hair was no longer a natural wavy blond but black and short. I brought an apartment from the money my birth parents left me. I swore to never use it as they never wanted me, cared for me. But times were different and I had enough of living under the bridge with other homeless people. I only brought a council flat. It stank of alcohol and urine downstairs in the main entrance, but I was on the top floor and inside was clean, one room for my bed, a love seat, TV and kitchen. The toilet was behind a small door. It was okay. I lived in it. I never went out the doors. I ate from take-aways if I was hungry, but I wasn't hungry much. If I needed anything else like clothes I would shop online.
I looked at my arms out of habit. Red marks covered them, but they were healed. Anger filled my eyes.
I ran to the bathroom, flung open the cabinet that was on the blue wall above the sink, grabbed the razor at the front and cut. Blood oozed from my skin and sounded like an old tap had accidently been left on as it hit the sink. Covering the normal white space red, I slide down the closed bathroom door when finished.
I finally got myself off the bathroom floor after a couple of hours and changed into my pyjamas and tucked myself in bed. It was February 14th tomorrow, and it was my birthday. The day I turned fifteen. The day I was meant to be spending with the people that love me, but I had no one. Instead my name and pictures were on most lampposts and build boards; it’s why I never went out much. I knew that social services and the English police are looking for me. Maybe not as much as they used to. Bella probably stopped John from searching if he ever did in the first place. They probably thought I was dead, run over by a drunk driver, killed myself, or stabbed like many other people in London.
I turned over to my right side in bed to look at the time. The bright numbers read '11:59 PM', one minute to go till my birthday. The time seemed to pace slow. You could hear the sirens in the background and loud, booming music playing in the room below, but these are the sounds I was used to and right now this was my home. The place no one could find me and hurt me. I looked over to the clock again. Just as the fifty-nine turned to zero, I was now officially fifteen.
The pain then started on my left ankle like I was on fire. My toes then started, but this time it was like ice. It grew bigger up my legs, stomach, down my arms, and up to my head. The worst was my cheek. It was on fire just like my ankle.
I was able to sit up, making the pain worse. I dangled my legs over the bed, darkness consuming me. Next, I put one foot on the ground, making the pain on my left ankle increase. I had to bite my tongue to stop me from screaming. I reached over to the cold metal bedpost, curled my fingers around it and stood. My legs nearly gave way, but I clung to the post. I was able to limp over to the bathroom to get some cold water on my cheek and ankle to help ease the burning.
I finally got in the bathroom and swung the door open. In the five steps, the pain became excruciating, but it wasn't the worst pain I had felt. It was great to feel such great physical pain and not emotional.
I