Small whispers

Chapter one

WARNING! This chapter contains slight abuse and Throwing up.

My room felt like it was caving in on me. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. In Front of me was my mother, blood soaking through her white wedding dress, her body lying lifeless on my bed and a small dagger lay in her hand. In her other hand was a small piece of paper. Even though tears blurred my vision I could just about make up her familiar handwriting. I took one step forward and picked up the note which read:

'We've been found'

Tears spilled out my eyes. This was the end. I urgently tried to check for a pulse on her neck, her wrist, anywhere but she was gone. She was really gone. My mother was gone.

I woke up gasping for air. My lungs felt as if I had been drowning underwater. My hair was stuck to my face as the sudden urge to throw up washed over me once again I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor my whole body shaking. I reached out for my phone only to realise I had left it on the bed in my room. I just sat there throwing up what little food I had in my stomach, my throat raw before looking at myself in the mirror. I was a mess, not even a hot mess, just a mess.

I'd been having the same nightmare every night for the past 6 months yet every night my body had the same reaction meaning every morning or at random times throughout the night i would be on the floor of my bathroom clutching the edge of the toilet i was puking into.

The sound of a door being flown open echoed through the house causing panic to settle in. My father was home, that's never a good sign. The thing about my father is that hes never home due to him normally being at a different woman's house every night. However, when he was home he was always drunk out of his mind. He didn't used to be like this he really didn't but my mothers death really changed him. "Arrabella get down here right now!" his deep voice vibrated of the the walls in the hallway. Quickly, i brushed myself off and stood up from the bathroom floor my head throbbing as soon as i stood up. "ARRABELLA I'M ONLY GONNA ASK YOU ONE MORE TIME GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" after splashing water on my face and brushing my teeth I made my way downstairs every step made pain shoot up my body.

As I reached the halfway mark on the stairs unfamiliar voices reached my ears except one stood out. Theo. He was here for a bit of background. Theo and I were best friends, emphasis on the word 'were'. We were born in the same hospital two days apart. Our mothers had been friends their whole life so it only made sense for us to be best friends too. That was until last year.

Each step I took the voices got louder; it seemed like they were discussing a meeting of some sorts. "My Father insists that the meeting must be this friday, that's the earliest he can do." a voice spoke. "She shouldn't be included in this mattheo she's too innocent for this.'' That was Theos voice: who was he protecting, whose she? I caught a glance of myself in one of the many mirrors that scatter the hallway. My mother used to say that mirrors only reflect your true self. I was a mess. I haven't even brushed my hair this morning. To be honest I don't know which is worse: the dark bags under my eyes, the bruises that were scattered all over my body from my father or my choice of pjs. The clothes I was wearing was far from acceptable to wear in front of guests but there was no time for me to get changed so my outfit consisted of: a pair of nike pro shorts and and a white vest top that was way to small for me due to my body getting bigger and smaller in certain places over the summer.

As soon as I entered the living room the smell of cologne and alcohol filled my senses. All attention turned to me. There were four people in the room one of them being my father and another one being Theo the other two I didn't recognise. "You didn't knock Arrabella." my fathers voice was menacing and there was a glint of joy in his eyes. I know that look, that look means I'm going to be in for a punishment session with my father and I was not looking forward to it one bit. "I'm sorry father, the door was open and I just thought tha-" I rushed my words so as to not get cut off however my father did anyways "No need for excuses, sit down. We have something to tell you" his voice was firm and held a sense of pride.