Chiara Daveys is living a good life in England - if you ignore her constant struggle with food, lack of a guardian and how she's constantly working to pay the bills.
At 17 years old, she's been unaware of her 6 brothers who have spent the 14 years o...
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I sit on the sofa, watching the news with my mum.
"Have you heard from Chiara recently?" She asks.
"Yeah, this past week she's been really ill with the flu. Her twin was as well."
"Aw, bless them. Her birthday is coming up, so I was wondering what to get her."
I shrug, "you know she'd appreciate anything."
She hums with a small smile on her face, "sweet girl."
"I should've brought the phone down so you could hear her when she called me the other day," I laugh, "she sounded so stupid with a cough. She had basically no voice."
"I hope you weren't mean to her, Oscar," she slaps my arm.
I groan, "of course not, Mum."
We sit in silence, watching the news. I start to focus though when Chiara's high school is mentioned.
I sit up, "that's the school Chiara goes to," I tell my mum.
"Oh, God," she holds a hand to her mouth in shock.
A shooting. Two dead.
When they move on to a new segment, I get up and start pacing. I stop, pulling out my phone and calling a number which was given to me back in July.
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They had to sedate her.
After the doctors confirmed Florence's death, she started sobbing uncontrollably. She was screaming, scratching at her blood stained arms.
Even when her throat went hoarse and her voice broke, she was still sobbing.
It was so heartbreaking to witness; she was inconsolable. Nothing could help her. No words or comforting could get her to calm down.
She couldn't accept Florence's death.
She died in Chiara's arms, too much blood loss after waiting in that closet for too long.
I tried to comfort Chiara. I held her in my arms as she collapsed after hearing the news. I let her sob and scream into my chest. I stroked her hair the way that usually calms her.
