No Choice But Murder

12

Kirsten was a sixteen-year-old from Essex. She went out to a friend's party one night and never returned home. She woke up, tied, in the back of a van and was hauled out by Petunia and Pam. She had lived in the attic of the house for two years now and had never seen the outside or anyone other than Petunia since.

'I'm so sorry,' I said, giving her a hug. 'Don't worry, you're not marrying Carter.' I cleared my throat, which was dry and cracking due to lack of hydration – I'd never lapped up milk from a container before. 'We're escaping here, and we need your help.' Farah kissed her teeth, raking her hands through her hair.

We were all still sat around the coffee table on the dirty sofas. James was asleep, Farah was biting her nails, I was talking to Kirsten and Carter was staring.

'I think you need some rest,' I told Kirsten. 'we'll wake you when Petunia comes down for you. Until then, we'll be discussing how to escape.' Farah kissed her teeth again. I turned and gave her a look.

'Ok.'

I took her over to the made bed where me and Farah lay five hours ago. I left her to sleep and joined the others at the sofas again, nudging James who woke up with a start.

'You idiot,' Farah hissed in my ear. 'She could be lying for all we know, she really could be her daughter, and you've got to go and just yell out that we are trying to escape. You pathetic, little – '

'Shut up, Farah.' Carter said, pulling out of his fixed trance. 'Leave her alone, she was only trying to comfort her.' He forced a smile at me. 'I know Petunia's daughter, Brazilia, she was my cousin. That's not her.'

My jaw dropped as I realised what he'd said. 'What?'

'That's not Brazilia.'

I gripped my hair with my hands, my whole-body swaying. It was true, he really was Polly's son. So, who was Hailey, his mother that I grew up knowing? My mind buzzed with questions. 'So, Polly really is your mother?!'

'Yes.' Carter mumbled, shifting in his seat. I forced him to sit beside me and he let out everything.

Polly was his birth mother but was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when Carter was four. She was abusive and Carter's father Kit put Carter in a children's home to escape from Polly's constant physical and verbal abuse. Then, Polly abused Kit until he ran away. Then she met up with her sisters, Pam and Petunia, whom she'd abandoned when she'd met Kit, and plotted on how she could get her son back. The children's home was broken into thrice until Carter was six and fostered by Kit, his father, and Hailey, his new wife. Polly saw him at school one time and kidnapped him, telling him she was his mother and she was here to save him. She took him to the house we sat in right now and kept him for two weeks until he escaped and was found by a dogwalker in the forest. He was safe until now, thirteen years later, when Polly had found him again, and held him capture along with his friends.

Carter gulped. He looked desperately uncomfortable, as if he wanted to cry but was preventing himself from doing so. He bit his lip as Farah and James exchanged revelations. I held his hand and squeezed it. He forced a smile in appreciation.

'Don't worry. You'll be safe now.'

'Yeah, bro, now we'll keep a wary eye. Once we leave this place.'

I blinked. One question hadn't been answered. 'So, who's Brazilia?'

'My cousin,' Carter gulped, rubbing his eye with his free hand. 'Petunia's daughter. When I was first taken, I'd discovered her in that bathroom there, watching.' He sighed. 'She was my age, six. I played with her for nine days and our playing sessions always ended with me going up for dinner and her retreating into that wretched bathroom and locking herself in. On the ninth day, Petunia had come down to tell me to come up for dinner when she spotted Brazilia and I playing together. She pushed me against a wall, that wall,' he pointed at the wall where the bed lay pushed against. 'and she charged into the bathroom to deal with Brazilia. The door was slammed and there was just screaming and screaming. I remember screaming myself when the screaming behind that door stopped suddenly. Petunia came out, blood smeared all over her arms, some on her face and in her hair. She looked at me for a second, the worst second of my life, and then she went back in.' He stopped for a moment, his eyes pouring uncontrollably. He rubbed at them, sniffing. 'She dragged out Brazilia's body then dragged it up those stairs. She left a trail of red. I never saw Brazilia again.'