Chapter 2

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Clea stared unblinkingly at the computer screen in front of her. She could not get her eyes off the bright screen; it was like they were glued to it and simply refused to obey her simple command of blinking. She stared but did not read. Many images and data skipped past her unfocused eyes. Bright images coloured the screen, yet her eyes did not take any notice of them-thus forming only a vague picture in her mind. She knew they were disturbing images, disturbing enough to give her nightmares-and she wanted to close her eyes and never see those images again. But her eyes refused to obey her. She desperately tried to get her mind working, knowing if she didn't stop that she would be haunted for the night and Luca was not going to be there to hold her; he had said he was going to be late, and the idea of facing those nightmares alone without him seemed suicidal to her.

She tried once again. 

Clea close your eyes. You are not to see any of these. They'll disturb you.

But I have to. I’ll get low grades otherwise.  The other voice in her mind replied.

Earlier in the evening, Clea had called Veronica to ask what she had missed when she had dozed off in the class. Mrs Henry had given them an assignment of 250 words due next week on the same topic which had scared Clea–Child Abuse.

Forget it. Just close your eyes and switch off the computer, she told herself firmly.

Finally, her mind registered what she tried to say, and she felt her eyes closing. Blackness covered the inside of her eyelids as she leaned back heavily against the chair.

As always, she got lost in her own world. The images which she had so desperately wanted to avoid and which were nothing but a soft blur slowly started to take a definite form behind her closed eye lids. The colours fell into the appropriate places, the outline getting more pronounced with every breath she took and before she could comprehend, a clear image formed in her mind.

A child huddled against a corner of a dark room, its head buried between its knees. Its long hair was tied up in messy plates, curls falling out in front of her eyes. Her left cheek had a dark mark on it, and there was a fresh trail of wetness on them. She was pressed tightly against the wall; she had cocooned herself in. There were marks on her arms and the light yellow frock she wore had holes in it. Clea could see red marks above her knees, too.

The fact of what might have happened with the small girl registered in her mind and before Clea could shout out in horror, the image began to move slowly. She could then hear the small girl’s soft sobs as the small bundle pressed herself even more tightly against the wall. The small girl’s features became pronounced, and Clea could make out the oval face and blue eyes. The small girl lifted her head from her arms to look at Clea, the blue orbs shining with dread and fear made Clea collapse.

Clea knew she had seen the girl somewhere before, but she couldn’t remember where. She was pretty sure she had seen those pair of eyes, which were then filled with confusion and hate.

The appearance of a dark silhouette startled the small child, and she gave out a loud cry-a cry so loud that it could have even pierced through the cruellest of hearts. The figure moved slowly towards the whimpering child, and Clea wanted nothing more than to push the dark shadow away from the child because she knew who the child was.

She knew where she had seen those pair of blue eyes before. She had seen the same hatred, confusion, anger and fear for the last nineteen years of her life reflected in the mirror, wishing with every second that she never existed. She found herself being placed in the position of the small child, where the small child had sat crying, Clea now sat in the same yellow frock.

The shadow of the man loomed over her, dominating her petite figure. She wanted to push it away because she was unable to do it, when she was just a child. The shadow laughed a cruel laugh, and Clea knew to who it belonged. Silent tears ran down her face as she attempted to push it away again. She did not want those things to return, things and marks which had changed her entire life. The shadow bent forwards, leaning in, its large hands coming forward to grasp her by her neck.

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