A.N I'm not sure exactly were I'm going with this one but I'm hoping that I actually finish it, that would be a first :D. Summary

Sara Thompson's life was normal boring even that is until her family is killed and she must move to England.

Prologue

It was foggy, the thick air of the clouds pressing in on my lungs and the heavy damp gray chilling my skin.

I could already see the frost gathering on the ground, sparkling in the misty orange glow from the light posts that line the streets of a modern suburbia and adding a light crunch to my step that served only to make my toes colder then they already were.

I wasn't walking with a purpose exactly or rather I had no particular destination that I wished to reach, I was simply in need of a brake from my home life, from expectations, not the ones that others place on me but my expectations, that standard that I feel the need to live up to in order to feel of value.

If I had known where this walk was to lead me then I would never have left home certainly not with out saying goodbye.

I often wonder what I could have done differently in my life, not with regrets but with a simple curiosity for how my life might be.

There are some things I regret, painful things, things that destroyed my life, as I knew it. I know that everyone has regrets but the one act in my life that I most regret was leaving my house that night or perhaps it was going back.

My family wasn't huge; I was the youngest with three older sisters.

Anyone with older siblings knows the feeling of I suppose despair that you could never ever be as good as them, that you could never live up to there level of success. It was this feeling despair that made me feel the need to leave. My second eldest sister, Lisa had just gotten in to the A.N.U. or the Australian National University to study Law and so we were all together for a family celebration of her success. She had always been the smart one and I'm not stupid but god three seconds around her and Einstein would have doubted his intellectual ability. Sara the eldest was incredibly beautiful and happily married to an Italian guy who owned a fast-food chain called Little Italy that could be found in every state and territory in Australia. He wasn't the fat, greasy guy with a beer gut and a packet of cigarettes but in fact a fit, tall businessman. He didn't run the chain though, he just reaped the prophets and thanked his lucky stars for his parents' hard work. Needless to say they were well off and lived in a beautiful three-bedroom two-story colonial stile house situated in Conder ridge, one of Canberra's newer suburbs and as we all found out she was pregnant. Isabel, the youngest of my elder sisters was the self-proclaimed black sheep of our family. She was smart but in an entirely different way from my sister she just understood things, she could grasp a concept that baffled Lisa with in seconds of hearing it but had no intention of studying past finishing school. My parents were forever telling her she was wasting her life with her ambitions of being a rock star but she never listened. She never seemed to care what other people thought of her she was Isa and that was that. I wasn't like any of them, I was just average well sort of. I'm not beautiful, not in the way Sara was, I'm not smart like Lisa was or in the way Isa was and I could never stand up to people the way she could. I've always been ok at things but never excellent.

According to my phone I had been walking for about 15 minutes when I decided to head home. I still can't believe that so much could happen in such a short time but that's all the time they needed.

When I got within eyesight of my house I had this incredible feeling that something was wrong. It was a creepy feeling as if an army of spiders where crawling up my legs, a sickening feeling as though they crawled into my mouth and down to my stomach and a heavy feeling like they weighted a tone. It simply felt wrong.

The first thing I sore that seemed wrong was the lights, they where off even though Sara's car was still here then as I got closer I realized that a window had been smashed, the one into the lounge room. I froze then; all my muscles tensed it felt a bit like being squeezed by an invisible monster and then ducked in ice.

I didn't wont to go in but I had to, I never thought it would be that bad. I briefly thought about calling the police but what would I say? "Hi yeah I just went for a walk and now my house has a smashed window, no I'm not alone my entire family is in there I'm just scared to go in" to me that just sounded stupid and I didn't think that they would believe me when I said that something was wrong and wrong it was.

As I stood there on the foot path out the front of my house I managed to convince my self that everything was fine, I don't really remember how or what I decided had happen but I know I walked in to that house.

My first thought when entering the house was that it smelled but I couldn't quite place the smell, I will never forget that smell. I walked through the foyer and stopped in the doorway to the family room the smell was still there and I can still smell it even now. I'd never been fond of the dark so I turned on the lights there is still a part of me that wishes I hadn't, that I'd simply run and never stopped. As light flooded the room I threw up the bitter feeling of half digested food expelling from my mouth would become as common as sleeping over the next few weeks. As my vomit added to the mess of my home I took it all in again, I felt like every were I looked the was blood it was even on the ceiling and lying in a pile near the kitchen table was my family or what remained of them anyway.

I'm still not sure what happened after that, I know I touched them I still remember the cold slimy hand and the blood on my fingers. I herd screaming, which I later realized was me. I don't know how long I stayed in that room time stopped mattering for weeks after that all I know is that the next day the neighbors found me lying on the front lawn in what was later diagnosed as a state of shock.

I spent the next ten days in a complete haze nothing from then makes sense it's all just flashes of rooms, people and objects nothing clear it's mostly just a black space in my life. I later learned from the police that is man suffering from schizophrenia who had killed my family and that he was now undergoing professional treatment to try to keep it under control. There is no cure for schizophrenia and the reality is that it was not the man's fault but at the time I didn't care, this man killed them brutally killed them and was not to be brought to justice as he was mentally ill at the time of the crime. The anger I felt lasted for years after the interview with the police and all I wanted was for the man to die. I never found out the man's name he still is simply the man, even two years after their death when I was told of his suicide I was not told his name.

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