What Goes Down

Prologue

I woke up. 12 noon. May 2011. The house I lived in was oddly silent. However saying that it we all went bed quite late the night before. The chances were everyone was still asleep. Groggily I walked straight into the bathroom adjacent to my room. Went for a pee and brushed my teeth. Stumbled down the stairs on my feet without falling over - for once.

Padded into the kitchen. Put the kettle on. Made a tea – would have had coffee but coffee is and always will be disgusting. Popped some bread in the toaster. Got out a butter knife and chocolate spread. Spread the chocolate spread onto my hot toast with the butter knife.

In greater confidence walked into the living room that was situated opposite the kitchen. Parked my ass on the sofa by the window. Glanced around the room to see my mum, dad, two sisters and three brothers sitting extremely still on the other seats looking towards the television. So still that it looked like they were barely even breathing. Upon closer inspection they were not actually breathing. Dive towards the phone. Dial 999.

"Hello emergency services. How may I help you?"

"Hello my entire family have appeared to have stopped breathing."

"Where are you?" "At home. 12 Station Road, Burton Latimer, Northamptonshire. I am about to start CPR on my mother but there is six other people here not including me or my mother."

"Okay we will get a couple of ambulances over there as soon as possible. Please may I know the age and name of the individuals this concerns?"

"I'll start with the youngest and go up. Andrew Smith, aged 16 months. Anne Smith, aged 6 years. Marie Smith, aged 15 years. Samuel Smith, aged 15 years. Jordan, aged 16 years. John Smith, aged 34 years and Louise Smith nee, amour aged 34 years. I'm going to put you on speaker phone so that I can start CPR."

"Okay all of that was recorded. What is your name and age?"

"I'm 15 years and I go by Jayne. However my actual name is Mary-Jayne, with a 'y', Smith."

"Okay, Jayne. I'm going to guess that the ambulances will be there any second now. I have also asked the police to go to your house because this sounds all too suspicious to just be seven unconscious casualties all in one place, okay?"

"Yeah. I can here the first ambulance now I'll quickly put the door on the latch so I don't have to stop CPR once I am in the rhyme of things."

"Okay I am going to hang up now. Good luck Jayne. Try to be co-operative, for everyone's sake."

The first ambulance arrives and starts to work on Andrew, being the youngest. Gradually all of the ambulances arrive and one-by-one take my family to the local hospital. I travel with Anne once I have changed into some jeans and a clean t-shirt rather than my short-shorts and skimpy tank I slept in. If my mobile was with me I would have been sure that it would have constantly been going off for people sending their condolences.

My grandparents had all past away so their was no one to be called. One by one the doctors all trickle out of the rooms my family were in to tell me that they had past away.

Slowly, this sent me further into the bubble I had for school to protect myself and further into depression. However the one that probably hurt me the most and made me breakdown into inconsolable tears was Anne's. She was my little angel. My shining star. My friends had always said that I had a certain maternal instinct over her – before they decided that I was not worth there time any more that is.

Three days later an autopsies is carried out to find the cause of death in seven people in one house at one time. All of the doctors conclude the same thing. Murder. That my family were murdered. And guess who the prime suspect was. Me. The only survivor in a house-full of homicides.

I got took into custody and given the opportunity to clear my name. However, from what I have been told it took three weeks for me to even move from the floor next to the door. To even go to the toilet. To even eat and drink. All of my muscles just locked into place. Apparently there was five different expert psychologists to try and knock me out of it. To try to get me to eat. To get me to live. What all of them concluded was that I had lost the will to live. That seven deaths in one go were what it took for grief to kill someone.

You would have never guessed who the one person that managed to get me to live again. Possibly the most hated teacher at my school. Miss Starlight, the teacher that was nuts and got me to pass GCSE English even though every other teacher had given up. It was the virtual bullying from her that got me to pass at not only a 'C' but a 'B' grade. Then I was nuts enough to pick As English Literature as soon as I found out she was teaching it. I was passing it as well. She had to be the only reason half of my year passed.

It was apparent to everyone but the police that I was not capable of killing seven people that were so close to my heart. I am not sure what happened because I had been transferred to a hospital ward to get me back to my old health, but everyone who knew me well enough managed to get my name cleared.

And when I say everyone I mean everyone. My English teacher, my maths teacher, my science teachers, my PE teachers, my French teacher, my violin teacher, my form tutor, the members of my form, majority of my year, some of my old friends who hadn't something not degrading to me in almost two years, my geography teachers, hell the teachers who taught me in primary and hadn't even seen me in almost six years spoke to clear my name.

It took just over two months for the NHS to discharge me off the ward. And into who's care. Miss Starlight's of course. It was then that I decided that the very second I could I would move to America where no one knew my name, where no one would not push me and go easy on me, where every corner did force me to remember. It was three months after the death of my parents and siblings I managed to organise a joint funeral for all seven of them. It was a small ceremony only me, Miss Starlight and my mother's best friend showed up because of the sudden decision on a date only one week before.

I allowed any of the organs that could be donated for medical uses to be donated and had their ashes to be made into a small locket I vowed to never take off where it could be close to my heart.

The following day I used my inheritance to move to America. I had enough to buy a two bedroom flat in South Florida where I was going to live. I decided not to sell my childhood home but to rent it out to a young yet large family, there was five bedrooms in the house. I helped the tenants to move in a set up an account for rent to be deposited into and left the country. That was a month ago today.