A sharp pain piercing the back of Sophie's head awoke her with a start. Clutching her head with one hand, she shielded her eyes from the bright sunshine pouring in through the window. Well, what was left of the window. Glass littered the bedroom floor around where Sophie was sitting. Had fallen. Bracing herself against the wall, she attempted to rise to her feet but as she ascended her head began to pound unrelentlessly and blackness clouded her vision. Sinking back to the floor, Sophie waited until the pain had passed before she tried a different tactic. Closing her eyes, she blindly stretched forward and painfully slow, she began to crawl across the floor untill her hand collided with the bed-post. Levering herself up, Sophie managed to climb onto the (filthy) double bed, where she collapsed with pain and exhaustion and willingly sank into unconsciousness.
A few hours later when Sophie arose from her dreamless sleep, the clock read 17:48, its red numbers flashing in the darkness. Somebody had closed the curtains. Blearily rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Sophie gently massaged the back of her head. Satisfied that there was no permanent damage, she gingerly began to stretch her stiff limbs. Pain shot across her back and up her legs. Gently lowering her legs over the edge of the bed, she slowly began to apply weight and gasped with shock. But with steely determination she continued until they fully supported her. Making her way across the room was a rocky, painful, slow process but she eventually reached the door and clung to it like one would do a life ring. Gritting her teeth she crossed the hall to her own room and with a sigh of relief sank onto her own (clean) bed.
Facing her full body mirror she pulled her pj top over her head and turned around. Glancing over her shoulder she cast her eye over the artisitc display of swirls of purple and green and orange that decorated her back. Deciding there was no point procrastinating any longer, she also removed her baggy bottoms. Chucking the pyjamas onto her bed she re-checked the mirror and was unsurprised to see the bruises continue down to her knees. Ransacking her wardrobe, Sophie eventually found a comfortable pair of joggers, and a baggy t-shirt that hid all of the bruises. School was going to be so much fun on Monday.
Creeping down the deserted hall, and down the old squeaky stairs, Sophie found herself in the front entrance without so much of a peep from her mother. Peering round the living room doorway, she spotted her mother flat out on the floor, half hidden behind the overturned sofa. Quietly, and with much effort, Sophie finally managed to righten the old worn, springy sofa and she turned her attention to her mother. Snoring slightly, with drool hanging from the corner of her mouth with her greasy hair clinging to her face and dirty clothes clinging to her, Sophie almost collapsed with remorse. Had she done this? Careful as to not wake her mother, Sophie gently rolled her into the recovery position in case she threw up in her sleep later on. Finding a cleanish blanket from the cupboard under the stairs she covered her mother and placed a cushion under her head. That was all Sophie could do.
A dish of Pot Noodles and a cup of hot water later, Sophie felt less famished if not any where near full. She needed to work out how to earn some money before they starved or their house was repossesed. Occasionally she would put up bits of her art work for sale on the internet with the help of her teacher, under the pretense that she was saving up for a holiday. As if they could ever afford a holiday. Her teacher must have realised this but the look on Sophie's face kept him quiet and he never questioned her. However, she hadn't completed any artwork recently, and they couldn't wait for something to sell. Things were getting desperate.
Back up in her room, Sophie paced back and forth ... back and forth ... back and forth, until with a sudden sigh of defeat, dropped onto her bed. Her head hit not the soft pillow as she was expecting, but something bulky, square and hard. Spinning round, Sophie came face to face with an old diary. Something she had seen years before but had then lost. How had it come to be on her bed? Cautiously reaching forward she grasped the leather bound pages and pulled it towards her. Placing it on her lap, she discovered how heavy it actually was. Fiddling with the old, rusty catch, she began to imagine all the wonderful tales it would be hiding, the many secrets to be discovered, it would be something to do in the cold evenings when her mother was passed out and she had only herself for company. Not that her mother was much company when she was awake. With a final groan, the catch relented and the book sprang open. To show ... nothing. Sophie didn't understand. Flicking backwards and forwards she could not find a single word printed on any page. But she was sure the last time she had spotted this diary it had been full to bursting with little notes, and she could see the ink from a distance where it had soaked right into the pages.
She had been quite a bit younger, about 5, before her dad died. Her dad was at work and her mum had been clearing out the few boxes that were left from their move. She had pulled out the old leather diary and sat it on the edge of the sofa. Intrigued, Sophie had clambered up to investigate. A note excaped from the death-grip that the catch had on the pages, and floated towards her. With tiny, clumsy hands she had reached up to pull it from the air, when it was cruelly snatched away and stuffed back in the book, which was promptly stuffed back in a cardboard box. A bunch of lies and trickery, her mum had snapped, not to fill your foolish head with. It's rubbish. And with that said she had marched out of the room - with the box - and Sophie had never seen that book again.
Until now. She was 100% certain it was the same book. But it was empty. Why?
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Hi there. I'm so sorry for the long gap since my last upload, but my summer was so hectic and I rarely got an evening to myself, I was only home about 6 days out of the entire 7 weeks! But enough excuses. I have a load of great ideas pumping at the minute so I hope to upload again really soon. I would love to hear what you think about my story, and any comments you have would be greatly appreciated. What do you think of Sophie's mother? Should I tone her down a bit? Would you like to see the story from maybe a slightly different angle in one chapter? A teacher, or a classmate? Please comment xxxx Yours in writing, K xx
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Life's Misfortunes
Teen FictionYoung Sophie has always been an outcast. With her defining features she finds herself alone in a big scary world. Not quite alone, as her mother is always home. But things are wrong. Since her dad died her mother turned to drink and abandoned poor S...
