The Hurtful Truth

Once again, I am not a doctor so I apologise if I don't use the correct terminology etc

This chapter contains topics that are very adult and may upset ...

Its all starting to come out now ...


"Bella, this is getting too much for you. Why don't we …"

"I can't stop now; I have to tell you while I have the courage. Besides, I'm not coming back, this is my only chance …" I steadied my breath, closed my eyes and put myself back in the house. I could see it all so clearly, the family pictures on the wall, the broken shards of glass making a trail that led to my body. I could do nothing but watch on, watch my younger self, dying.

"I can remember my breathing was getting slowing, more laboured but I wasn't giving up. I would see it thought to the end. She relieved her weight off of me and shifted to find another vodka bottle. Life was giving me so many chances to escapes, but fear and death bet it to it, held me down to the old wooden floorboard, soaked in my innocent blood.

When she saw I was trying to get up, to get out of my own blood, I felt her short bony hands wrap themselves tightly around my throat, gripping fiercely. As her grasp became more secure, she jerked me up and whacked me against the wall. I screamed against her hand as my new wound hit the cold wall, leaving behind a red smear. I recall started to get sleepy, my vision blurring. I was about to fall under, into the darkness but the door burst open and I could just about make out tall men, in dark blue uniforms, holding shields and guns. "Put the girl down, or we will shoot." I knew that these men had come to help me, but I wasn't the only one who planned to go down without a fight. Her grip loosened and I could feel my lungs inflating again. "And what if I don't? You wouldn't really shoot a poor, innocent little girl, now would you officer?" I could see the tallest man, the one who had commanded I was let go, started to slowly walk towards us. "Ah ah ah, back you go. You wouldn't want her to get hurt because of you now, would you?" Before I had a chance to take in her words, I was pulled against her chest, my head forced to rest on her shoulder as she placed the familiar carving knife's tip against my chin, hot blood trickling down the trail of the knife as she ran it down my neck and back up to my cheek. The last thing I remember was a noise from behind us and hitting my head on a table's corner. I woke up 2 weeks later in hospital. I had been put into a medicated coma to allow my wounds and the swelling around my brain time to heal. The wounds to my head were pretty extensive so the doctor told my family I needed some time to myself; that I was having a break.

But when I did wake up, I saw balloons and flowers, cards, teddies; all types of crap from the hospital gift shop. Everyone as there, the people I had protected. But my memories came back and I started to thrashing around in my bed, screaming for someone to help me, crying uncontrollable. Doctors were at my side 24/7 after that, in case I have another occurrence. I got to go home a week or so later, after I had been stitched up, mended and put in several casts.

Of course, I had to testify against her. The police that witnessed the end of the attack also testified. She pleaded guilty to first-degree assault, falsifying physical evidence and countless counts of endangering the welfare of a minor. The judge gave her 30 years for wilfully torturing, maliciously punishing, and wilfully abusing a child thereby causing great bodily harm or permanent disfigurement and 15 years for the second charge, tampering with evidence." I took time to breathe, but yet, the worst was to come.

"Things got better though, didn't they Bella?" My eyes settled on a discomfortable and anxious Alice.

"I hoped so; I hoped now that bitch was behind bars, we were safe, that I was safe. Things went on as best as they could when I had my stitches and plaster removed. I was kept off school for a few months, just so I could heal emotionally. Of course, the whole street knew what had happened when the evil bitch was bundled into a police van and I wheeled out on a gurney, covered in my own blood. Well, we couldn't really hide that one now, could we? So, the years went by and things did get better. I went back to school, my brothers got jobs and we were becoming a family again, but stronger. Things got bad again; about 5 or 6 years later.

It was the night before Scott's 15th birthday, and I had gotten him the best present imaginable – He was such a fan of Broadway, musicals, dance, and things like that; so when I had saved up half for myself, Sam helped me buy 2 tickets to see a musical – Sam paid for most of it but I contributed what I could. When they arrived, the envelope was addressed to me so I quickly wrapped it myself and dressed it with a huge bow. I had written the card and placed it at the foot of my bed ready to give it to him as soon as I woke up the next morning.

So, Mum put me to bed and I tried to sleep. I looked over at my clock and it was about 9:30pm. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I grabbed my fluffy dressing gown, placed the present under my arm and tip toed across the landing. I could hear his music faintly drifting out from his room as I reached out to knock. I called out to him, but I didn't get a reply so I twisted the door handle and creaked it open; giving him a chance to see or hear me. I peered through the crack in the hinge and saw something hanging from his ceiling…"

"Dear god," Emse cried, cringing into Carlisle. Her whimpers pulled me out of my horrifying childhood memories and I acknowledged the horror-stricken faces that looked back at me, as if they would cry if it were possible.

"Yes, my brother hung himself on the night before his 15th birthday…" I chocked, only just managing to make myself be heard. I shut my eyes and I experienced again my brother's death; but I wasn't looking through my twelve eye old eyes, I was standing behind myself, watching and waiting for someone to help him; to change my past.

"I couldn't do anything, I couldn't say anything; all I could do was scream. I screamed as if my life depended on it as I dropped the present and tugged on his hand, trying my hardest to wake him up. I remember Sam's arm around me tight and sweeping me away into his room where my other brother's waited. We could hear my mother's cries of pain and weeping whilst Charlie called for an ambulance although we all knew it was too late.

Scott was gone.

We waited at home whilst paramedics took him and my parents to the hospital to do all they could for him. It turned out that he had taken an overdose, before hanging himself. None of us knew why and still don't know; he was always a happy boy, always laughing, smiling and helping everyone.

TJ found out days later that he had been bullied by a gang or thugs at school for years about how he loved Broadway and how his psychotic Auntie tried to kill me and how ... how he was gay. We had known for years, just as he had, but we had accepted him for who he was and if it were possible, it made us love him even more. I guess it began too much for him…" Tears began to flow more freely and faster as I remembered Scott's gorgeous happy face in my head, wanting nothing more than to have my family back together again; to be happy.

"The gang that bullied Scott began to turn on our family after he died. It started off with just threatening letters and messages through the door at first, but after a while, it started to get violent. Bricks would come crashing through our windows covering us all in glass as we slept, and our cars was vandalised and set alight.

My dad and older brothers waited up on night and confronted our attackers after they had taken a sledge hammer to our front door, wanting them to tell us once and for all why they were causing us so much pain.

It was purely because Scott was gay and that we supported him; in their eyes, we were deifying God just as much as Scott had and deserved to be punished.


When I was 13, my parents divorced because of all of the stress that events had put on us as a family so I stayed at home with Mum whilst my brothers lived with Dad in Utah. I would visit Charlie for a week once a month; and once that week was up, the boys would do the same in Arizona.

One night when they were visiting, Mum, Cain and Damian went out to get a take away, a film and treats, leaving me at home with Jack and Freddie. With every visit came a new Barbie doll for my ongoing collection.

So, there I was, sitting in my new room, surrounded by dolls, shoes and dresses when there was a noise coming from my window; a sort of napping noise. I remember thinking to myself it was either Jack or Freddie in the tree house that had come with the house, so I went over to the window and drew back the curtains. I couldn't see anyone so I began to lift the latch. The next thing I saw was a pair of black boots heading straight for me. A hand found my mouth and tried to silence my screams. I felt a rough fabric rub across my face as the stranger gagged me and pinned me to my floor. I could hear noises down stairs; shouting, followed by gun shots. I froze, allowing the strange man access.

He took his chance whilst I wasn't trying to wriggle free to thrust into me with brute force. A violent scream erupted from my throat at the pain of his actions and footsteps could be heard. I remembered the relieve I felt when Jack, tears flooding his face, burst through the door with Renee's hand gun and I realized he had fired the gun – that he and Freddie were safe. I tried to look behind him to see Freddie's face, but he was alone. He had completely motionless when he saw what was being done to me, and raised the gun, aiming it at the man holding me against my will. The man on top of me just laughed and continued to ride me, harder and harder. I closed my eyes shut, trying to forget about the pain when I heard Jack grunt, and fall beside me, blood oozing from his chest. I remember screaming against the fabric in my mouth, screaming for someone to help my brothers. The unknown man got to his knees and let out a whistle. I couldn't let him get away; he had taken more of my family away from me and this time I would not just sit there and take it – 'even if it kills me' I thought. I reached up and grabbed his leg; 'surely someone would have heard the screams and gun shots' I screamed at myself. I tried to bite his leg but his huge hand came down hard, and smacked me off of him. He went over to the door, before glancing back and with a dark and evil smile I had only seen on one other face before, his foot found my stomach, my face, my chest, my ribs ….

"Someone did hear and the police suddenly burst through the door, shocking the man as his foot landing on my rib cage. Paramedics came and strapped Jack and I to gurneys. I remember shouting to Jack that everything would be okay and telling the paramedics to take him and Freddie first, trying to reach out to hold their hands.

Jack had died instantly.

The knife had pierced his lung and he had suffered from extreme blood loss, but Freddie was a fighter and lasted just until Dad arrived before he drifted away. Police did catch the man and forced him to speak. He reveled that a lady called Megan Striders had asked a boy to call him to go on a job for her; giving him a life sentence and as she admitted to 'hiring' him, her sentence was also life.

He did not know who the boy was and there was no way of tracing him, but the name Megan Striders stood out …

… Auntie Megan.


So, what do you think? There is one more part to this particular part of the story so tell me what you think, or any idea you think you might have? Thank you x