A/N: Just want to put a warning here about this next chapter. It is quite graphic (I won't lie) in terms of talking about self harm.

Hope you enjoy the rest though :)


II
The nightmare

21st Century
Planet Earth
England
London

April lays on her back on a brown leather chaise lounge, looking up at the ceiling of her therapist's office. The smell of burning jasmine fills the room and April can't help but notice the long crack in the ceiling just by the lampshade. The single crack is irritating and now that she has noticed it, she can't unnotice it. It is an office that always seems to be so spotless: everything clean and fresh and smells like jasmine. April wonders why no one would at least cover the crack in the ceiling with paint or something. It makes the whole room seem somewhat dirty and uncared for.

Her eyes drifts over to the polished brown, wooden walls as her therapist's voice flows over her head. April would have rather be back at her house then with her therapist, but she also would preferred to be here with her therapist rather than at her house with Bruce.

"April?" Her therapist calls which finally catches April's attention.

April turns her head to the left to look at her therapist who is sitting in the black leather armchair. Her left leg is crossed over her right and she holds a notepad. April notes that her therapist looks tired although it hasn't even reached midday. Her golden hair, which is usually swept up in a neat bun, is now tied in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. She swivels a Parker pen in her right hand as she surveys April. The swivelling irritates April and she wants her to stop, yet it doesn't occur to her to ask her to. It isn't her position to tell her therapist what to do and what not to do.

Her therapist tilts her head to one side. "Is there anything you would like to tell me, April?" She asks. "You are looking a little shaken up."

Bruce only thumped April once around her head that morning after the burglar alarm went off, but his threats after she woke up still made April feel terrified and unsafe. It is a feeling she can never rid herself from.

When April doesn't respond, her therapist notes something in her notepad and then switches her legs, crossing her right over her left. She looks at the time and sighs.

"Well there's five minutes left of our session and you haven't told me a thing, April. I can't help you if you can't help yourself, and talking to me is a good start."

April looks back up at the crack in the ceiling and clasps her hands together resting them on her stomach. She is always told that she has to help herself if she wants others to help her. But it is the fact that April does not want any help. April does not accept help from others and is in no state of mind to help herself. Bruce has paid for these therapy sessions because, as he has told her many times, she is crazy. After her first suicide attempt, Bruce forced her to get help. April has tried to keep her other attempts as subtle as possible, but clearly were never enough.

However for a split second, April's mind changes and her scowl increases. The anxiety slowly bubbles away inside of her, but she manages to keep it down. If she were to ask for help, there would be one thing to trigger this idea.

And one of the reasons is that she refuses to sleep at night. And Bruce is not a reason why.

"I'm afraid to sleep at night." April finally admits.

Although April's voice is low, gruff and almost hard to hear, her therapist nods in understanding. "Any reason why?"

April closes her eyes momentarily and starts to twiddle her thumbs nervously. She has never spoken about this before and doesn't know where to start. It takes her a moment to compose herself before she speaks. "It's the same every night. The exact same nightmare."

There is a pause. "And is this something quite recent?"

April hesitates. "I've had it since my parent's death."

There is another pause as her therapist continues to take notes in her notepad. "The same nightmare for the past five years?"

"Yep."

"Every time you go to sleep?"

"Yep."

"The exact same? Have there been any changes at all?"

"Nope."

"Are you parents in the dream?"

"No."

Her therapist sighs as she takes more notes. "Are you okay with telling me what happens?"

April takes in a deep breath as she tries to remember everything that happens in her nightmare. As the image of the Black Lighthouse flashes in her mind, April feels the burning pain in her chest that she usually feels when waking up after the nightmare. She doesn't show the pain in her face.

"There's a lighthouse at the end of a long beach," April starts slowly, her voice shaking as she speaks. "It's cold and I'm watching myself. I wake up every morning with a burning feeling in my chest. And it seems to be getting worse." April can sense her therapist watching her but she continues to stare up at the ceiling. She can't even bring herself to explain everything that happens in the nightmare, but there is one thing she never understands. She speaks again just before her therapist can say anything. "There's a voice halfway through. I can hear some sort of battle in the distance. But this voice calls out a name as if it was some sort of announcement."

"Do you remember what the name is?"

April hesitates. "Maxwell Hollerford." She turns her head to look at her therapist who looks rather solemn. "But there's no one in my family called Maxwell let alone Max. As far as I know, I'm the only one alive in the Hollerford family. Bruce is just a family friend who now looks after me," April lets out a loud sigh as she lets her hands drop to rest on the leather of the chaise lounge. "There's…" She pauses as her scowl increases. She draws her attention back to the crack in the ceiling. "I feel like there's a part of me missing. Almost as if I should have a sibling but I don't. I feel incomplete." She looks at her therapist who raises an eyebrow. April rolls her eyes and tips her head back, knowing that her therapist thinks her to be crazy.

"What do you fear the most, April?" She asks. "The icy cold atmosphere in the dream, or the fiery pain when you wake up in the morning?"

April looks down at her hands as she starts to twiddle her thumbs again. "I don't like ice."

The sound of the ticking clock on the shiny oak desk suddenly seems prominent and it is all April can concentrate on for a moment. Her therapist stands and walks over to a large wooden cabinet next to the bookcase which blends in with the wooden walls of the office. She says something along the lines of them running out of time, but their appointment the following week will be at the same time.

In the meantime, she gives April a present for her eighteenth birthday which is approaching later this week. April sits up in the chaise lounge and takes the present awkwardly. No one cares for her enough to give her presents. Judging by the weight, the size and the texture of it, April knows that it is some kind of book. As she rips off the perfectly folded, shiny wrapping paper, April looks at her new book in her hands. The Stargazer's Notebook by Paul G. Abel. April turns it over to read the blurb before flicking through the book and smelling its pages.

"It'll help you to keep your mind off your nightmare or any more troubles you have. Whenever you feel like you want to physically hurt yourself or if your recent suicide ideas suddenly come to mind again, April, I want you to turn to your astronomy books and run away in space for a little while. It will help," Her therapist smiles weakly. "I know how much you love learning about astronomy and your wish to see the stars, so I thought this may come in use. Besides it is your eighteenth birthday. You are legally an adult and Bruce's reign to look after you will no longer be applicable."

"Thank you." April mutters, nodding her head.

As soon as April stands up, her therapist draws out a pot of pills and passes them to her, telling her to take them every morning and night and warning her not to skip out on any pills or overdose. She hands them to April who turns the pot over and over in her hand, reading the word 'ANTIDEPRESSANTS' labelled on the side. Fluoxitine, forty milligrams.

Her therapist escorts her out the room and tells her to have a good birthday and that she will see her the following week. April turns to look at her therapist waving at her before leaving the doctor's surgery.

April waits at the bus stop for about ten minutes before her bus arrives to take her back to the main road near Wandsworth prison. She takes a seat by the window and watches the way the rain splatters on the window, clouding over the view of the city of London passing by. She continues to turn the pot of pills over and over in her hand, wishing that she could become invisible. Or even if she could die instantly she might find her happiness again on the other side. If there is one.

However what her therapist said about her eighteenth birthday has struck something inside of April. She can get away from Bruce. But that seems too be good to be true for she knows that he would probably find her again.

If she ran away, there would be nowhere for her to go. The cul-de-sac is the only home she has. To April, is seems that her own death is the only answer.

April jumps off the bus when they reach her stop. For a short while she stands on the pavement, letting the rain soak her a little. She doesn't decide to return to her house until she starts to feel a chill in her bones. Yet she does not feel any rush to get inside.

Despite the rain and the pleads from their mothers, the neighbouring children play a game of football in the small grassland in the bend of the road. They use the brick wall to the side of the house as a goal, sniggering as they do so, knowing how much it irritates the old man that lives in that house. The mothers who usually huddle together chatting amongst one another at this time of day are now standing in their doorways or leaning out their windows, shouting at the children to come back inside from the rain. April silently passes through the cul-de-sac but it is as if she is not there as the mothers storm past her to drag their children inside. However the children do notice April and continue to stare until they are back inside.

When everyone scuttles away back inside their houses, the cul-de-sac falls silent and for a moment all that can be heard is the heavy rainfall. As April gets closer to her house she pulls her scarf closer to her face as her breath condenses in the air. It seems unusually cold for March, almost as if the winter has extended slightly.

She hesitates at her front door and listens in for a moment. She knows that it is too early for Bruce to be home from work, yet the thought of him already being there is enough to stop April from entering. But still April takes out her house key and opens the front door.

She is greeted by many letters and junk mail advertising local kebab and Indian restaurants on the doormat. She hastily picks them up before stepping inside the house and closing the door behind her. She leaves the letters on the side, along with her house keys, knowing that Bruce will be able to tell if she has looked through his mail, and it will be enough for him to torture her. To be honest, her own existence is enough for him to torture her.

However, what April does not seem to notice as she chucks the mail on the side, is the letter at the bottom of the pile. A letter that is addressed to her.

April pulls off her scarf and enters the small living room. It is not often she has the chance to hang around the living room and feel safe, so she thinks that for the time being, she can make the most of it. However it is not the case. The moment she steps into the room, she accidentally knocks over a pile of books on the floor. April curses aloud to herself as she falls to her knees and desperately picks up the books. Bruce will know she has kicked them over. He will be able to tell because they are not in the same order. Or he will be able to tell because he seems to know everything she does, almost as if he is constantly watching her every move.

April doesn't stay in the living room for long. Having knocked over the books is enough to shake her and the smell of the room always reminds her of the day she was informed of her parents death. Instead April turns into the kitchen, feeling some sort of strange motivation to make herself lunch. Although she knows that her stomach will reject the food she eats.

She scans the cupboard but nothing seems at all that appealing to her. A sense of panic and fear flows through her, which seems almost normal. Perhaps the art of preparing a sandwich may calm her down. However she finds that there isn't even any bread in the cupboard. With a sigh of frustration, April leans against the counter and looks out the window overlooking their tiny garden. All that is in the garden is a shed in one corner and over-grown grass.

The rain continues to patter heavily against the window.

April drops her gaze, noticing the bread knife to her right in the corner of her eye. The desire to hurt herself comes over her quicker than a bullet piercing her heart. What she does next is somewhat natural.

She slowly pulls up the sleeve of her hoodie and examines all the scars up her wrist: some brand new, some that have formed a scab and a few that are almost gone. Her therapist's voice telling her to run away in space if she ever wanted to hurt or kill herself runs in her head.

April closes her eyes tightly, resisting the urge to pick up the knife and slit her wrists again. She knows that she can easily take her own life there and then by slitting her wrist vertically. She has done it before but mysteriously, it didn't work.

Before she has the time to change her thoughts, she picks up the bread knife and slashes it across her wrist five times. As she does so, she thinks to herself, "This is fucked up."

April freezes on the spot for a while as she stares at her ruined wrist. The blood slowly pours down and she can't help the tears that fill her eyes. Different emotions overcome April and she allows herself to cry. She suddenly realises that she has spoken aloud about her nightmare for the first time since she stated having it. For the first time since her parents death, she strongly wishes for help. She wishes for the time she used to be content. Her parents were alive and there was nothing that upset her other than normal things children cry about like what colour crayon to pick or a lost Barbie doll.

April clenches the fist of her bleeding wrist and sobs silently, chocking on her own tears. It is the first time in a long while she has felt this much emotion, and yet she does not have the energy to voice her feelings. She knows that somehow she can heal her own life. But she does not know where to start, let alone how. Instead she continues to sob silently.

It isn't until she starts to feel anger towards herself for crying so much that she wipes her tear stained cheeks and searches the kitchen for the first aid box. When she finds it behind the sink, she holds her bleeding wrist under cold running water and uses her other hand to open the box and pull out a few bandages. Her hands shake vigorously but she copes. It takes a long while for the bleeding to slow down. But when it eventually does, she wraps her wrist up with bandages. She then pulls the sleeve of her hoodie over her wrist, covering up what she has just done.

April stands there for a few moments more as she composes herself. She takes out the pot of anti-depressants her therapist gave her. It doesn't take April long before she pops open the pot and pours them down the sink.


The sound of harsh waves from the sea smacking into the shore is the first thing that is heard before the view of the beach comes into view. The pebbled beach stretches out in front holds no existing life forms: no seagulls gliding through the dark grey air, no crabs scuttling across the slimy rocks looking for shells. Even the sea is empty. There is no life form in existence. To the left is a tall cliff made out of some sort of dark grey material which may have passed as being rock on first glance but on a closer look, it is evident it isn't. Just on top of the cliff is a long stretch of damp grassland that looks like it stretches on forever. The short grass blows wildly in the harsh wind. Running along the bottom of the cliff is an array of slimy rocks, mostly covered in seaweed with hidden rock pools down the gaps. It is clear that from the texture of the rocks they were once part of the cliff but have fallen off in the past due to erosion and the harsh wind that constantly blows. At the far end of the small beach where the cliff ends is a long, low stone wall which stretches out right to the sea. The end is slowly starting to crumble away from the waves smacking into it. Not quite in the middle of the wall, closer to the cliff's edge, is an iron gate. Only a few feet on the other side of the wall is where a small patch of grassland meets the sea that surrounds the whole beach. Then just behind the wall, opposite the cliff is the lonely Black Lighthouse sitting on a circular stretched-out corner of the Island. An empty lighthouse where every so often the lights at the top will flash a very bright white light which lights up the whole grey sky for that instant second.

April knows she is dreaming. This same scenery is seen in her mind every night she sleeps. For April, it is one of those dreams where she isn't herself but standing back as something or someone else, watching what her body double is doing. She always feels it weird as she watches herself stand on the slimy rocks, looking out towards the Black Lighthouse from someone else's perspective. She always takes note of her windswept black hair that needs a good trim. She also notes that she is standing bare foot. Her choice of clothing is a bright red t-shirt and skinny black jeans, both of which she knows are somewhere in her wardrobe. Any scars that may be on her arms are not visible from her point of view.

For a short while, everything seems to be at ease and the only thing she really begins to notice is the bitterly cold air around her. It is a horrible icy chill that she can't ever quite describe other than colder than a winter's night. Maybe the feeling of being trapped in an ice cube – if not colder.

But it isn't long before her crippling anxiety starts to take over. It happens so quickly. April's mind starts to scream at her body double to run. Run away as fast as she can and get off the beach straight away because she knows what is about to happen. However even if she opens her mouth to scream, no sound ever comes out. This is when April starts to realise that she cannot move her feet or any other part of her body. It feels as if she is slowly starting to turn into ice, starting at her heart. It happens every time.

The Black Lighthouse flashes for the first time, just as soon as a wave smashes into the shoreline. April can always hear the wave but never turns to see it. By the time the Black Lighthouse flashes for the second and the third time, she starts to feel a burning pain inside her chest. She cannot tell if it is the icy air or something different. But whatever it is it feels as if there is something inside her eating away at her soul.

Her body double takes a step forward as the sound of a deep male's voice rings out,

"Welcome to the Day of Destruction!" His voice is muffled out by the sound of another wave crash. The pain in her chest starts building up and there is a loud drum roll as the male's voice called out the name: Maxwell Hollerford.

April's body double lets out a terrified scream as she falls to her knees, choking on her own tears.

The Black Lighthouse flashes for the fourth time. And then a dark smoky shadow starts to disperse from the lighthouse, heading in her direction.

Hundreds of people scream over in the far left, maybe on top of the cliff. The screams echo around the whole beach, followed by sounds of weapons firing. April knows that there is some battle happening but she can't see it. Instead she remains standing on the slimy rocks as she watches her body double being dragged towards the Black Lighthouse by something this dark shadow. She watches herself cry out in terror for help as the icy pain in her chest continues to burn away her soul.

The Black Lighthouse flashes for the fifth and final time. Her knees tremble as she starts to fall…


April jolts awake with a whimper, her body tangled in her bed sheets. It takes her a few moments to remember where she is and that it was only her nightmare. She is safe for the time being. Her dark bedroom slowly starts to come into focus as the icy pain in her chest eases ever so slightly and turns into fiery pain. The pain seems to last longer than usual before it starts to die down, but April knows that this time, the fiery burn in her chest has become more painful since the last.

Sweat pours down her face and she desperately wants a glass of water to cool down. As she shakily turns over to her side, she reaches for her alarm clock to check the time. It is only 4:32 in the morning. She knows that she can't risk sneaking around the house without waking up Bruce while she is still shaking with terror. However she is too afraid to close her eyes and fall back asleep again.

Instead April wraps her arms around her chest and curls up in a ball, shivering with fear. She stays this way for the rest of the night.

It isn't until light starts seeping through her thick bedroom curtains that April slowly sits up in her bed and rubs her eyes. The fiery burn in her chest has finally subsided and her body starts to cool down, yet her throat yearns for water. She remains as silent and as still as possible as she listens out for Bruce. Nothing is heard at first but she is sure that he is asleep as he is very rarely awake this early in the morning. Once she is certain that her trembling has stopped, she hauls herself out of bed, trying to make as little sound as possible.

Hearing Bruce's snores when out in the hallway makes April feel safer as she goes down the stairs and into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. She gulps down the water greedily as it clears her throat. Once done, she places the glass down on the counter and looks out the window, admiring the waning moon that hangs high in the pink sky. April always likes it when you can still see the moon in the sky in early morning.

April remains standing there there for a few moments before her pale skin starts to form goose bumps. She looks down at her arms, watching her dark hairs as it stands on end, before turning over her arms to examine her wrists. Her left wrist was still covered in bloodied bandages. She has to change it for a new clean one. Most of the scars on her right wrist were starting to fade, but since she is right handed, it is easier just to slit her left. She runs her thumb gingerly over her scars and flinches a little at the pain as she remembers physically drawing the blade across her delicate skin.

April's attention is quickly drawn away from her wrists when a high pitched machinery sound appears and vanishes just as quickly as it did before. April jumps just as she hears it and before she knows it, she is running to the front of the house. She swings open the front door and finds the same man with the long brown coat wavering behind him as he runs away from the cul-de-sac. The way he runs is almost identical to how he ran before. April hesitates on the spot before she steps out onto the front lawn.

"Hey!" She calls after the man but he does not turn around or even stop running. Ignoring the fact that she is bare footed and still in her pyjamas, April takes a determined step forward to run after the man but she is immediately pulled back into the house before her feet even touches the lawn.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bruce growls as he grips hold of her hair, pulling her head back. April whimpers in fright but clenches her teeth together in order to stop herself from crying aloud.

"Answer me!" He shouts as he throws April to the wooden floor letting her land in a crumpled heap. April slowly lifts her shaking hand to her right cheekbone and feels blood pouring out of a long cut. As she turns over, she looks up at Bruce looming over her. His stumpy body towers over her. Although heavy with sleep, his eyes are burning with fiery anger, his round face red with fury. His, what usually was slick black hair combed to one side, is stuck to his forehead. He terrifies her to the core.

Bruce groans loudly as he straightens his posture.

"Pathetic," He hisses. "I never thought that Declan and Suzette Hollerford would ever produce such a feeble offspring. You don't belong here, you swine! I don't even know why I have to put up with you."

"Put up with me?" April whispers as she tries to push herself up off the floor but her arms struggle to hold her body weight. "You chose to stay here for me."

In a whir of the moment, Bruce hauls April to her feet and pins her against the banister, his large hand locked around her throat. She doesn't even attempt to pull his hand away, almost as if he has done this many times before.

"You remember that deal we made?" He says, his voice somewhat calm and controlled. "The days pass without a word from you uttered. The neighbours take you as shy and think we're happy and recovered from your parent's death." Bruce glances down at April's arms, noticing her scars for the first time. He releases her throat as he grips hold of her arm, his fingers digging into her scars. April cries out in pain and coughs for air at the same time, nearly falling to her knees, but Bruce keeps her on her feet.

"What the fuck are these?" He growls, shaking her.

April is unable to reply.

"Sometimes I would rather you dead."

April looks at his shoulder, afraid to look him in the eye. For a split second, she thinks she has seen something just over his shoulder. For that one moment, it looks like a tadpole floating in the air that vanishes as quickly as it comes. But she knows that she is only seeing things from dizziness.

"Well perhaps I'll be dead before I turn eighteen." She croaks.

Bruce looks at her hard before releasing her. "Not another word from you." He says before turning to the stairs. But before he makes a move, he turns back to April and hits her across her face. Silence fills the narrow hallway before Bruce returns to his bedroom.

April feels her stomach churning and waits until Bruce's bedroom door slams shut before she rushes into the kitchen and retches violently in the sink. When there is nothing else in her stomach to release, she wipes a shaking hand across her mouth before falling on the cold tiled floor. April balls the neckline of her pyjama top into her mouth to stop herself from screaming aloud.

End your life, April thinks to herself. End it yourself before Bruce does.