Very short first chapter because it's just the introduction!
Ronnie POV
Introduction
I entered the kitchen, my pace slow and reluctant. I wiped the sweat from my brow with the corner of my sleeve, leaving a damp patch on my jumper sleeve.
My mind was racing and I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. The continuous flashbacks of what had just happened darted through my brain. I swallowed, determined not to shed a tear then, with this thought in mind, focused my gaze elswhere.
It was then, as I gazed elswhere, that my focus rested upon a picture. Thee picture, in fact. I sighed, my muscles aching due to today's events. I walked towards the picture, hoping it would show me a sign of normality. Or maybe at least a glimpse of it.
Normality. It's funny I should say that. Truth be told; there's no such thing as normality where I'm from. Everyday's a risk, every step you take is a caution, every action leads to a consequence. I honestly can't remember a single day when anything was 'normal'.
I picked up the picture, specks of blood transferring from my fingers to the picture as I held it. Holding the picture, I observed the image. I frowned; the picture was of Danielle. My daughter. My dead daughter. I cursed, the flashbacks reaccuring.
When Danielle had died, her adoptive parents had offered to give me, her biological mother, a picture of her. It was sweet, I guess. They wanted me to cherish her memory, for me to never forget my daughter. In fact, that was their exact words, "never forget our Danielle, Ronnie". God, how could I ever forget Danielle? It was Danielle! The very same Danielle I had wished to re-enter my life for all those years, the very same Danielle I had cried every night over, the very same Danielle I had thought was dead due to my viscious father. I would certainly never forget Danielle.
The picture they had handed me was unmistakeably Danielle. It captured all her features; the smile that brightened up the entire room, the natural complexion, everything. It was Danielle in her early teens at, what looked like, a school dance. Her hair was beautifully done and her dress was one of the most gorgeous dresses I had ever clamped eyes on.
I sighed, laying the picture under a stack of books in the centre of the kitchen table. I didn't want to look at it, not now anyway. It wasn't the time. It was the worst time.
I steadily turned towards the mirror that Jack had nailed onto the wall. Slowly, I caught a glimpse of myself and was suddenly thrown into shock horror. I wailed, knocking about a million ornaments over at a time, as I caught sight of myself. This one look, this one inch of a glimpse, was enough to assure me of what I had just done. Gasping for breath, I used the edge of the table to spin me right round to the mirror, my legs suddenly unable to work. As I took quick glances of myself in the mirror, I felt like I was being tortured. Being tortured by peering at myself in the mirror. It sounds silly, but that's certainly what it felt like.
It wasn't so much the shock horror of what I looked like; my clothes tinted with mud stains all over, my hands fully coated by a deep coloured blood, my hair tangled and my forehead dripping with revolting sweat, it was just the realisation of what had happened. The realisation that I had just-
"Ronnie! I'm back!" The tender calls of Jack's voice startled me. I froze, only for a second, then quickly washed the blood from my hands and threw a long jacket over my mud-stained clothes.
"You ok?" Jack asked, entering the kitchen.
"I'm perfectly fine", I tried to sound as normal as possible.
"Good", he smiled.
I sighed. This would have to be my own little twisted secret.
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Georgina (: