A sound buzzed. Marley rolled over in bed and glanced at her cheap Wal-Mart brand alarm clock. She sighed. 0700. Time for her to start another day of school where everybody knows her as 'the whalespawn', 'the uneaten twin' and 'that bitch with the fat mum'. She truly hated the people that did that, though she could never wish ill upon them; it just wasn't in her nature. She could smell toast cooking, so she flopped out of bed and pulled a dressing gown over her thin, poly blend nightgown. She opened her door, and crossed the hallway to the bathroom. She turned on the hot tap to see if there was hot water. Putting her hand underneath, she felt the warmth she had missed so dearly from the night before. "MUM!" she yelled, "DON'T USE THE HOT WATER! I'M GOING TO SHOWER AND WE DON'T HAVE TIME TO WAIT FOR IT TO WARM UP!"
"Of course, my princess!" her mother called back, a warm, loving tone flooding every syllable.
Marley hung her dressing gown up over the hook on the back of the door, and took off her nightgown, folding and placing it neatly on the toilet cistern. She turned off the hot tap, and turned on the shower, jumping in after a few seconds. The heat felt good on her skin, taking the edge off of the chill that came in through the thin, acrylic windows. She hated her home, but it didn't matter, because the centre of her world, her mother, was there with her.
She began to sing vaguely to herself, trailing off every so often:
'California girls we're so incredible
Daisy Dukes bikinis on top
Sun-kissed skin… we'll melt your popsicle…'
She jumped a mile: the cold water began to come from the shower head. She had to grin and bear it, because there was still shampoo in her hair. She gritted her teeth, took a deep breath and stepped forward, into the icy flow.
After getting dressed, she walked the short distance into the kitchen, and saw her mother napping on the table. This wasn't an unusual occurrence. She took a step towards her mum, and gently shook her. "Mum, it's time to wake up. We need to leave soon." she crooned. She shook her mother a bit more, until it twigged. The arm she was shaking was cold. The bag in her hand hit the floor, and she screamed, piercing the quiet air of her trailer.
The Rose's neighbour, Maude McDale opened the back door to their trailer.
"Trisha?" Mrs McDale called, patiently waiting for the voice she knew so well. But no reply came. "Geoffrey!" she shouted again. "Come here! Something's not right!"
Her husband, Geoffery McDale, a veteran of the Vietnam War hobbled over. He climbed wearily up the steps, and looked at his wife.
"Hmm?" he replied.
"Go in there. Trisha didn't reply."
She stepped back out, and her husband entered, walked down the short hallway, and screamed.
Maude followed, and screamed. She saw a large woman, known to her as Trisha, dead over their dining table, and a young girl on the floor, surrounded by empty pill bottles.
Geoffery checked her pulse. She had one, but it was weak. He picked up their phone and dialled 911 immediately. They sat on the floor, staring at the two casualties, for an age, waiting for the paramedics to make their two minute call-out time.
Trisha Rose was pronounced dead on arrival. Cardiac arrest.
Marley's heart was still going. The taller of the paramedics picked up one of the pill bottles on the floor around her, and let out a sigh. He'd seen that pill before.
He picked up her left wrist, and put a medical bracelet around it. He took out a Sharpie and wrote on it three simple letters:
D. N. R.
