[COMPLETED BUT WONT LET ME PRESS THE COMPLETED BUTTON AHAHHA]
Aurora Lockheart was once the sunshine girl-bright, kind, and full of life. But one night changed everything, leaving her a shadow of who she used to be.
A year later, just as she's be...
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My mind wandered back to the late-night conversation I'd had with Johnny after Edel and John had left. I was lying in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word as if searching for some hidden answer I'd missed the first time.
"How do I tell Gibsie, though?" I'd blurted out, the words barely above a whisper, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I can't— it's too hard!"
Johnny had been sitting on the edge of the sofa, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as though he were trying to work out the answer himself. He glanced at me with a soft, tired look, the kind he gave when he was trying to be patient, though I knew he was just as tired as I was.
"Take your time," he said, his voice steady, reassuring. "That lad's obsessed with you. He won't look at you any different. I mean it, Aurora."
I bit down on my lip, still uncertain. The weight of it all sat heavily on my chest, making it harder to breathe. "I just... I don't know when. Or how." I turned over the idea in my mind, restless. "I could write it down? I mean... I like writing, and a majority of it's already written down in pieces."
Johnny gave a small nod, his eyes studying me as if measuring my resolve. "Do that, then," he said after a pause. His voice was softer now, the edges of his exhaustion beginning to show. "Just take your time." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, letting out a slow sigh like he was exhaling the weight of the entire situation for me.
But even with his reassurance, the knot in my stomach refused to loosen. How was I supposed to say the unspeakable?
Edel walked back into the room, her eyes red and puffy from crying, John following close behind with a large cardboard box in his hands. He placed it carefully on the coffee table, the weight of it landing with a dull thud that seemed to echo through the room, filling the silence.
"What's that?" Johnny asked, sitting up straighter on the sofa, his gaze flicking between the box and his dad's grim expression.
Edel wiped her eyes once more before settling beside me on the sofa, her presence strangely comforting yet loaded with something unspoken, heavy. She let out a shaky breath, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
"So..." she began, her voice thick with emotion. "John had a case years ago, and it's very similar to your, ah, situation." She paused, glancing at me with a mixture of sadness and apology in her eyes. "But it got shut down back then—due to not having enough evidence and not enough witnesses came forward."
My mind was already racing. A case? Similar to mine? My stomach twisted uncomfortably as I struggled to keep my voice steady. "When was this?" I asked, though I already felt like I was in over my head, utterly clueless on how to even process this.
"1989," Edel replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "They only had two witnesses come forward against Andrew, so they couldn't do anything at the time."
The name hit me like a slap in the face, cold and sudden. "Andrew?" I echoed, the realisation slowly creeping in, tightening my chest. Andrew. It couldn't be the same Andrew, could it? My mind reeled, fighting against the memories that threatened to surface, but it was too late. The pieces were falling into place.
John nodded, sitting down beside Johnny, his face hardened with the weight of what he was about to say. "Yeah, Andrew," he confirmed, voice grim. His hands shuffled through the files in the box, his movements methodical, as if he were searching for something that might make all of this easier to swallow.
I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out, my voice rising in panic. "Who were the two witnesses? Could I go against him now? Would it make a difference if I—" I rambled on, my heart thudding painfully in my chest, faster and faster with each question.
John held up a hand, his expression softening slightly. "I mean, yeah, if we can get more evidence, and if more people come forward..." He trailed off, pulling out two old, faded files and flipping through them. "The two other women who came forward were—" He squinted at the names for a moment. "Maeve and Lisa." He paused, the weight of what he was about to say hanging in the air before he added quietly, "But Lisa, unfortunately, passed away in December last year."
"Lisa?" I repeated, the name catching in my throat like a jagged edge. My hands instinctively clenched into fists in my lap, and I felt the air leave my lungs in a rush. Lisa. It couldn't be. No. Not her. Not my mam.
I stared at John in disbelief, my world slowly spinning out of focus. My mam? I thought, my mind scrambling to make sense of the impossibility.
No. No fucking way.
Edel reached over, placing a gentle hand on my knee as if she already knew what was running through my mind. "I'm sorry, Aurora," she whispered, her voice breaking with the weight of her own grief.
But all I could do was sit there, staring at that box, at the files that suddenly held the darkest pieces of my mother's life—a life I'd never known about, a secret buried deeper than I could've ever imagined.
