I never imagined I would grow up knowing that my father was murdered the year I was born, or knowing that my mother was part of the group that killed him. I never imagined that I would grow up knowing that every day my family's life would be at risk. But it is and I have to believe it.

I used to ask Mother where my father was. I told her that all of my friends at school had daddy's so where was mine? But she would just sit there in silence, and shake her head. I would eventually give up and walk off, telling myself I would never get an answer. On \the day I found out what had happened to my father, mother never spoke at all. She stayed in her room all day long, not coming out for days on end. She was always pale, her hair turning grey, a frown permanently on her face.

There had been a sharp knock on the door. Mother pushed my sister and I up the stairs and told us not to come down till she told us too. She had waited until we were out of sight and then let our visitors in. They all went into the kitchen and talked for what seemed like hours. Eventually I had gotten bored and, leaving my little sister in her room, walked silently down the stairs. The voices were still so quiet, so I had crept up to the door and listened intently. Just as the voices rose I heard footsteps coming towards me and I raced up the stairs, just in time for me to be out of sight of the strange men.

But my footsteps hadn't gone unheard. When the group of visitors had eventually gone Mother came up the stairs and told me. She told me who they were and what they had said, or rather what she had done. I had sat there in complete silence listening to my mother telling me that she had killed my father and those men had also taken part in the murder. I didn't say a word, even when she had finished speaking and hurried back downstairs.

From that day I hated my mother for what she had done. She had not only murdered my father, but lied to me all my life. However, since I had been only eleven years old, there was nothing I could do. I had told my sister what Mother had done-against her wishes. Unlike me, Rose had cried for ages. I had stayed with her while she quietened down and eventually fallen asleep. I remember thinking that she was so vulnerable and promising myself that I would always look after her.

I have kept my promise all my life, despite everything we have been through. It hasn't been easy-living the life we have to would never be. But I would never rely on Mother's help. I couldn't even look her in the eye, never mind leave her to save my life. I have also made sure that Rose hasn't listened to Mother either-I made the decisions for her too. They must have been the right ones though since I am still here to tell you my tale.

I have to tell you in advance that this is no fairy tale, quite the opposite in fact. There are days where lives were in danger, where those close to us were brutally killed, but also others that were full of triumph and joy. There were days where I felt I should just give up. But I didn't, and I was right to carry on as I am still here to tell you my story.

However some are not here. They didn't make the right choices and suffered because of it. I am telling you now, if you are afraid, or you don't know the reality of this harsh world then do not carry on reading.

But to those of you who are brave and realistic…

I am Meredith Cross and this is my story