The streets of London were dimly lit by the street lights that were scattered down the otherwise pitch black street, as the rain poured down from the dark nights sky as though crying. Crying for a child lost in a world darker and more evil than the pits of hell, even Satan would cringe at the scene in a normal
house on the edge of London
The only sound that could be heard from the street was of the rain hitting down on the roofs of the ordinary cars and the odd sound of a car as it drove past along with the bright shine of the cars headlights, that seemed to light up the street and highlight the colours of each individual car and show up the empty street, reflecting off of the droplets of clear and fresh rain. The reflective tears of the sky gave a depressive view of the street, anyone that walked through the street would have their otherwise happy mood destroyed in an instant.
One house in particular on this dark and dreary street, a house that from the outside looked very ordinary, a brick built house, with a mahogany porch. The front garden was well arranged with brightly coloured flowers and vibrant, healthy green grass with dark green hedges with an arch over the gate that led to the well cared for garden. and consequently leading to the front steps of a mahogany front door. A golden number sat beside the front door in a proud position, it shone when a car drove past, as the light hit the sky's tears that had fallen upon it.
If you spoke to anyone on that street or even anyone that knew the occupant's of the house the would say that they were an ordinary family; two loving parents, and two adorable daughters. This could be nothing further from the truth, within the house was one abusive mother, one abusive ex-army step-father, a spoilt step daughter and an abused teenage girl, with more pain in her heart than she had trust in anyone.
It was pitch black in the house, apart from one room, where a television shone light into the room, flashing various colours against the walls and against the furniture in the room, this was were the privileged child slept innocently; a young girl wearing white pyjamas, curled up in a room that was filled to the brim with toys and done up for a princess, the walls splattered with a pale pink that had swirls of metallic swirls around the border of the very pink room. This was a young teen that always got her own way, no matter what it cost. The girl's name was Melissa. Whatever she said, her parents would believe her and even if they knew that the words that spilled from her lipstick covered lips were poisonous lies, they still acted upon them and treated them as sacred as the words in the bible. If she were to say that her sister hurt her, then her parents would punish her sister, even if they knew it was impossible for it to have actually happened because she was out or she was no where near where her sister pretended to fall.
In the room beside hers was her parents bedroom, an ordinary room with neutral coloured walls and a large double bed in the centre. Nothing in the room was of importance was in the room, apart from the two obviously naked occupants. An ex-army man with his arms smothered in aggressive tattoos, he lay beside a large woman with few tattoos and an abusive nature. Neither cared about who they hurt, even if it were each other. The mother sported a large bruise on her arm, a distinct had print courtesy of her aggressive husband.
The room beside it was lit by the street lights, for the occupant purposely left open her blinds, she hated to close them for if she did she knew her mother or step father could come in at any time. She curled up wide-awake on the bottom of the bed, the cover pulled up around her like a bird's nest, she snuggled up to the pillow as though it were a synthetic mother, the closest thing she had to a hug for years. Her eyes were open as she wondered what it would be like with parent's that cared, or more importantly she dreamed of a better life, a life with the only people she trusted in the world, this girl's name was Elisabeth Rose, and the people she loved and trusted weren't there. She bit her lip as a tear trickled down her pale face and dripped onto the pillow beneath her head, forming a wet patch on the otherwise dry white pillow.
She looked out on the streets of London and up to the sky, wishing she were with the only people she trusted in the entire world, the only ones that showed her affection. The ones that without realising it themselves taught her to smile, love and to trust. She closed her eyes and thought of what it would be like to be with them and sighed knowing it would never come true, however many stars she wished upon, however many birthday candles she blew out alone on her birthday, wishing for a miracle. That was what it would be. A miracle, because her dream was a dream untold and a dream that would never ever happen. She cried herself to sleep for yet another night of her life, something that she had done for years now, a routine. Strangely it was something that got her to sleep, after laying for hours in the dark room, in the pitch black house, and thinking and imagining that her dream had come true. A dream that meant that she would be considered delusional for wishing for such an amazing life, one that her mind had created after months of speaking to them, after months of role playing on a social-networking site, a site known for fakes but she had found the most amazing people in the world on there, and she trusted them and loved them, secretly wishing that she could be her character for real she had logged off a mere hour ago when they had gone offline, something her parents hated because she would refuse to do chores and refuse to talk to anyone when she spoke to the ones she loved on there.
She slept peacefully dreaming of her favourite place with her favourite people, and wishing she could be there and wishing they would love her… something even she knew was not going to happen anytime soon.