The fire

The Truth

Finally, after 12 days, a singed eyebrow and 5 broken arms later (Not all of them mine) I arrived in Chamonix unbelievable exhausted. But I couldn't sleep, not just yet. I needed to take care of a few things first. Then tomorrow I could go to the forest knowing the true story of what had happened that night.

As the tall police station loomed above me memories started flooding into my mind.

First flashes of bright light took over my vision, then fast slide shows of pictures mismatched with noises raced in front of my eyes. I grabbed the nearest railing for support. Everything went white.

The little girl looked cold, so so cold. She was shivering violently, her tiny fingers clutching the bloody lady. Tears were streaming down her freckles, the moon adding an ironic sparkle to the trickling water. My heart broke, the pain engraved in my memory returning. Every second I watched the little girl's distraught cries was a second longer I had to relive the awful moment. A noise in the near distance made the petit fille freeze. It seemed to panic her, desperate attempts to shake her mother awake filled me with sorrow. Her calls became more and more erratic as the branches snapping became louder and more consistent. She was so small and so scared, fear was radiating off her more than the suns ray's on a scorching day. It was now pitch black. The evening air cold and bitter, the figure stood his face was hidden by the moons shadow. He peeled the struggling girl easily off her Mother, no emotion radiating as the ting girl screamed. Another man appeared with what seemed like a small wooden crate, I felt myself gasp. As he wriggling form was stuffed harshly into the hollow box, the lid slamming shit over the top.

Who was the man? Why take her? Was he the murderer?

I suddenly felt sick looking at the pale faced image of my mother. A dizzy spell took away my senses.

"Mademoiselle, mademoiselle!" I opened my eyes. The bright hot sun making it hard to see. A hand was squeezing my shoulder. I tried to sit up. An immediate rush of blood to my head caused me to lose sight again, I felt my body wobble.

"Lentement." Another voice ushered, there was a hand on my back. Everything began to slowly refocus. Why was I on the floor? A crowd of people had gathered and a green jumper sat on the hard pavement where my head had just been lying seconds before. There was a young brown haired officer knelt beside me, a worried expression plastered on his face. Another officer was stood up in front of me, he was shouting fast French to a police lady inside the station.

"Allée Allée!" The young officer shouted to the large crowd. The masses began to disperse whispering quietly to each other while throwing me pitied looks.

"Ça va bien, ça va bien." I assured in a bad French accent, pushing myself onto my feet. The officer beside me quickly stood up, he held my arm in support, carefully studying me with his brown eyes.

"You sure you're alright miss?" He asked, worry spread over his face.

I nodded not even sure myself. Why did I faint? Was it the memory returning or the severe dehydration?

"I think I'm just dehydrated." I replied rubbing my forehead. My hand came back down soaked in sweat, it had been a tough few weeks. I just needed some food and drink.

"Come inside, we'll get you some water." The second officer said, he had finished his conversation with the lady in the station. I nodded letting them lead me into the air conditioned building. To be honest I was extremely grateful for the water and cheese sandwiches that followed. So much has happened in the latter days I just needed that little bit of tlc. It wasn't until about an hour and a half later I actually got to the point of my visit.