Chapter One

“Evermore! You worthless piece of shit, you’re burning the dinner!” My step father Patrick, shouts up the stairs to me, I knew by the tone in his voice that I needed to move.

I had to run up to change my top as I spilt hot sauce on it, I must have forgotten to turn the hob off while I was away. The sauce was burning my skin so I didn’t think, I’ll do better next time.

As I arrive in the kitchen, Patrick stood there with his arms crossed looking at me with a stern look. I move passed him and to the dinner, only to find that the dinner wasn’t burned at all but looked around about done.

“You’re lucky it’s not burnt, you and I would be having one of our talks if it did.” He tells me from behind, I gulp fear making its way through me as I nod my head.

I knew what he meant by talk, I wasn’t in the mood to have to deal with one of those today. Not that I’m ever in the mood to have one, I wanted to just make this dinner and head to bed without any trouble today. He looks me up and down with a disgusted look before leaving the kitchen, which allows me to let out the breath I was holding in while he was stood above me.

I have never been treated right in my whole entire life, well ever since I can remember anyway. My mother had me when she was only 15 years old, my birth father never being in the picture. She enjoys to tell me on a daily basis that I ruined her life, she was planning to do so much with it but I came along and threw all her plans down the drain, not that I asked to be here in the first place.

When I was around 7 years old, she met my oh so lovely step father Patrick, where my already hard life, got that much harder. Within a few months, they were married and my mother was pregnant with my younger sister Zoe, who is so delightful just like her father.

Their children are treated with such love and grace, Patrick will do whatever they want at a drop of the hat. But me on the other hand, I get told I shouldn’t be here so it’s only right I pay for ever ruining my mothers life. Apparently, I look too much like my birth father so I’m shunned off to the attic, it’s too hard for my mother to see the man that left her all those years ago.

The only time I come down is to clean and make their dinner, in doing so I get constant abuse from every family member. Even my other younger sister, Anne, treats me like I’m a piece of gum on the bottom of her shoe.

I had just finished plating the food when they all walk in, they were laughing about something before they all face me. The only expression on their faces was disgust, while I turn to concentrate on placing the dinner on the table to not shrink under their gaze.

“Daddy, tell this dirty mistake to hurry up with my food, I’m starving!” Zoe cries looking over at Patrick, this comment alone making me start to rush as I knew what would be coming if I didn’t.

“Don’t worry darling, it looks like it has finished now.” He says once I had fully plated the food, I stand back up against the counter as they all walk over to the food that was on the table.

“You’ve cooked us pie again, we had that last week!” Anne whines which only made my heart rate pick up, I just need to be told that I can leave and it’ll be okay again.

“Your mother requested that it makes us pie.” Patrick says looking over at Anne, who I could see was hoping someone throws the food at me like they have done many times before. “You can leave now, hungrily staring at us while we eat is something I do not want to see.” Patrick says without turning to look at me, I nod my head before quickly leaving the room for them to eat.

I head out to the hallway and run up the stairs, the only place I ever remotely feel safe is the attic. If I can just get to there, I’ll be okay. Once I close the door behind me, I place my hands on the door with my head bowed to try and calm myself down. The same feeling of fear that I constantly feel at the forefront of my mind, how much longer am I going to have to live like this for?

I turn my body so I was now facing the attic, it was wet and cold but a place where I have always called home. Right at the end of the dark attic, was my very old and uncomfortable bed. I slowly walk over and take a seat, the old springs crying out as I sat down. This bed like myself, has had enough of living like this. No one has ever shown me any kindness for years, only a few of the village people that know I exist used to when I was allowed out of the house. Sometimes I hear them asking at the door where I am, my mother or Patrick always skip the questions and try to derail the conversation. I knew this was only because they knew what kind of reactions people would have in town if anyone found out how they treat me.

I reach under my bed and pick up one of my many old books, just before they told me I wasn’t allowed to leave the house at all. I took the spare money that I had and went to the local bookstore, I got as many books as I could do so when I have time, I sit and read each one.

I lay back in bed opening up my book, but before I could move to begin to read, the sound of smashing fills the downstairs section of house.

“Evermore!” Patrick’s loud voice screams towards the upstairs, my heart sinking at the thought of what may have happened.

My nightmare isn’t over yet.