I need to practice my descriptive writing, so I thought I'd write this! I hope you all like it and please do review with your thoughts! -Sophie x

Connie heaved herself up from the sofa and switched the tv off with an ominous click before making her way into the hallway. Her breath smelt heavily of alcohol, and her face bore the expression of a lost soul- blank, empty and full of regret. Her eyes held host to menacing dark circles, scarily prominent against the ghost like pallor of her face. They screamed for help, silent and desperate but alas; she was alone in the world, left to drift too and fro with no sense of purpose or belonging.

She staggered to the door just past the stairs, clutching the wall with her pale, shaky fingers. After shoving the piece of wood with all the strength she could muster, Connie screamed with frustration and lashed out, hitting it with her hand as her eyes began to water. She rested her forehead against the cool paintwork of the door and tried to take some deep breaths- and failing miserably. Her sobs came in loud and uneven depths, echoing throughout the silent, still house until her ears were filled with the heart-breaking cries and her body shook with fear and an overwhelming feeling of sadness.

With one last shove, the door snapped open and Connie stumbled in, her freckled cheeks streaked with the silvery trails of tears full of emotion. Her eyes were wide yet unseeing until she reached out and let her hand rest gently on a cool, metal handle. Looking down through her watery eyes, the woman found herself using her daughter's bike to steady herself with, and she froze, encompassed in a memory she had treasured for years.

It was the Christmas of '09, and Connie remembered the day as if it were moments ago. The first flakes of the season had started to flutter through the streets of Holby when the Beauchamp household was filled with the delighted squeals of a brown haired, 7 year old girl. She had just torn the wrapping from her very last present- her new bike. It had tassels that would flow in the wind and a bell that delivered the most satisfying sound.

"I need to try it out now now now!" Grace had excitedly insisted, her face intent on getting her own way. Connie had looked down into her baby girl's eyes and melted. They were full of happiness, love and excitement, glittering and bright with a young girl's hope, caught up in the moment of the day.

"Of course darling." She had murmured, and let her face be taken over by a wide smile as her daughter jumped with glee and ran to bundle herself up against the cool temperatures of the street outside.

Once the bike had been brought through the hallway and placed at the gate, Grace leapt on it with surprising elegance and let her left foot push her from the ground. Connie watched on, her mind filled with nothing but love for that beautiful girl. Her hair, still in the plaits she wore for bed, flew behind her as she rode up and down their suburban street, her cheeks becoming more flushed by the minute with excitement and the frosty bite of Jack Frost. The consultant retrieved her phone and filmed the girl as she made her way back to the end of their garden where Connie was stood.

"Do you like it?" Connie had asked with a smile as the bike was propped gently against their wall.

"It's perfect! Thankyou!" she had squealed before suddenly wrapping her arms around her mother's waist and squeezing furiously. Connie placed a hand on the back of her hair and kissed the top of her head.

"I love you so much." She had whispered, closing her eyes slowly.

"I love you too." Came her reply.

It was in the room with that now dusty and old bike that Connie found herself opening her eyes, and feeling her heart drop when she realised where she was. At that moment, she knew she just couldn't do this. Her trembling legs gave way and she fell to the floor, slowly curling them up and hugging her knees until she felt as small as she possibly could.

The tears came thick and fast, falling freely until they splashed to the ground with some sense of finality. Connie placed her head on her knees and wept; she wept for the mess she had gotten herself into, all the mistakes, the wrong decisions she had made. But most of all, she wept for her daughter.

She wept for Grace, and the girl who grew up to barely know her mother at all. She wept for the human being the consultant had sworn to look after, to love and to cherish and to put above everything else, to be the best mother to as she could.

But she had failed, and she knew it.

Connie Beauchamp had failed, and she knew she'd never, ever be able to forgive herself.

Ever.