AN: Hello again. This is my second story, but is only a one-shot. It reflects what I think Letty's life would have been like when she was younger. This piece was origionally a short story for my school's Exam prelim. So basically, I own this, but I do not own the thought of Letty, as this has no names mentioned in it. So I hope you like it, and leave a nice little review. Thank You!!!!
The Beach
Ever since she died, he drank.
At first it was just a little, but day by day, it became more and more.
I hated it.
He says it's my fault she's gone.
It's not true. I know it's not true. But he says it so much, that it's starting to get through to me. He's starting to make me believe it was my fault.
He's blaming me for my mother's death.
We were driving back from a dance performance I was in, when the car was struck by a green 4x4 truck. The driver was male, and he was drunk.
He hit the car in the driver's side when we were going through a junction.
He hit my mum's side.
She didn't die instantly, she held on for that little bit longer.
I tried to help her, I wanted to help her, but I couldn't. I was stuck.
She died on the way to the hospital.
When he tells me it's my fault, I remember the look on my mum's face when we crashed.
All the pain. All the hurt. The tears.
It was horrible.
And all I could do was sit there. I had broken my right arm. I broke some bones in my left hand because it was squashed against the door with the impact, and I had a major concussion.
I couldn't remember anything after they got my mum and me out of the car. I was told by the doctors afterwards that I blacked out.
I was in the hospital for 2 months.
I'm still recovering. I have nerve damage in my arm and I have to take tablets for it for the rest of my life.
I'm only 16. No 16 year old wants to take tablets for that long. Especially not me.
I hate it.
I hate today even more.
Because today is the one year anniversary of my mothers death.
November 30th 2006.
But HE started on the first month of her death.
The drinking started. The blaming started. The guilt started.
He's not my real dad. My dad left when I was younger.
My mum met my step-dad when I was 8, and then they got married when I was 10.
At first, it took some time to get used to him, but after a couple of months, I started to like him.
The day they got married I really started to like him.
He made my mum happy.
He made her smile.
He made her laugh.
But now, he doesn't do anything. He just makes me feel guilty.
Says that she would still be here if we didn't go to my stupid dancing show.
He hates me.
I think he hates me so much that he might just hit me.
I don't think he ever will, but you never know the effects of alcohol.
He's shouted at me, but never hit me.
The man has quite a "bark".
The first time he shouted at me was because I was late coming home from school and didn't have his "special" cup of tea ready for him.
I don't know why he was so angry, he had sat there drinking all day anyway, but still wanted his cup of tea.
But he did scare me.
I made him his drink and then went up to my room for the rest of the night. Too scared to go back down.
But it was the second time that really did it.
He was out at work, and I was so caught up in studying for my exams that I forgot to make his dinner.
He came home and it wasn't ready, so he was really mad.
He pounded his way up the stairs to my room, and dragged me down to the kitchen.
Demanding his dinner. When I told him how long it would take, he exploded.
Screaming in my face, swearing at me, calling me names.
It was horrible.
When he went into the living room, I ran out the back door.
I was so scared. I just couldn't take it.
I wanted to run to a friend's house, but no-one knew about his drinking.
I was too afraid to tell anyone.
So I ran to the nearest place I could think of.
I ran to my beach.
My sanctuary.
My quiet place.
It has a secret passage way that I don't think any one else knows about.
It's my place to think about things.
I think about my mum, my life before she died, and how happy we used to be.
How great life was.
But it's all gone now. All because of some stupid drunk man.
And my life is all gone now, because of another stupid drunk man.
God, I'm never going to drink at all. NEVER. NEVER. NEVER.
It's horrible.
But I can get away from all of it.
I can come down to my beach and just think.
Just listen to the sound of the waves and forget.
Forget all the problems.
Forget all the drama.
Forget all the shouting.
Just sit here and think. I can stare into the ocean and watch the world go by.
All the birds flying around, the waves crashing against the rocks.
Yeah, I could just sit here forever.
The beach is all closed off by cliffs. There nice and high, so no-one can climb down. It's like a cove.
It has a white sandy beach, clear Blue Ocean, and the best bit is the bright, shining sun.
The sun makes me think that my mum is there with me.
That I can talk to her when the sun is out.
That she is there with me.
That she can help me through everything.
My mum was my best friend. We would do everything together.
Go shopping, go to the cinema, and go out to lunch.
Just have a girly day to ourselves and talk about everything.
I can still talk to her.
That's what I come here to do.
To think and talk.
I know she cant respond back to me, but I can hear her anyway.
Every time there's a soft breeze, or when a seal pops out of the water, I know she's talking back.
The best moments are when I'm sitting in the small cave in the side of the cliff, and the tide comes in, so I'm stuck in the cave.
But I think its her way of laughing at something.
And I have to walk out of the shallow pool of water, getting wet up to my shins.
It makes me laugh to think that she's laughing along with me.
To see me soaking wet.
And I think someday, when I'm older, I'll bring my own family to my beach.
My sanctuary.
My quiet place.
And show them what life was like when I was young.
Show them, that no matter how hard life can be, everyone can find a place to go.
A place to find peace and serenity.
A place to be happy.
Because, even though today is the first anniversary of my mother's death,
I know that I can be happy.
Because she would want me to be happy.
And she would want me to get on with my life.
Not to hold anything back.
Not to be afraid of the things that go on in the world.
Not to be afraid of my step-dad. Because even though he's drunk most of the time, its his way of coping with the loss of my mother.
Just like my way is to come out to my beach,
My sanctuary,
My quiet place.
And talk to her. Let her know that I'm alright.
That I'm coping.
And that I love her.
And because she was my best friend, I'm going to make this OUR beach,
OUR sanctuary,
OUR happy place.
A place where we can both find the peace and serenity we both deserve.
A place that we can share.
A place that we can be happy.
A place that is special for her.
A place that is peaceful for me.
Yeah, our beach,
Our sanctuary,
Our happy place.