Your house is my prison and nobody can save me.

“It was my birthday. I was nine. My mum was set on having a small family get together. She called my brother down from his room when it was time for my cake. He was fifteen and basically hated the family.

My dad was working that day, he told me how sorry he was he couldn’t make it. My dad always cared for me more than my mum did. She never did love me.

Anyway, so it was time for my cake and I was excited. After the candles had been blown out and Mum and David had sung ‘Happy Birthday’, David told me my present was upstairs. I was only nine, I missed the look in his eyes. I had no idea what was going on, I believed my brother would never hurt me … How wrong I was.

David raped me that night. I wouldn’t speak to anyone for two years. I kept silent. Every night David would come in and force me to have sex. I hated it. Of course I did. I never told a soul. It always happened when my mum and dad were out. If they were in, I was safe.

But then again, they went out every night for some party or dinner date. So, I wasn’t safe often.

It was a day before my eleventh birthday and David had told me he wanted to give me an early birthday present, I knew exactly what was going to happen.

It was half way through that my dad came home. He had finally seen the horror that was going on every night in his son’s room for the past two years.

He freaked. He yelled. But he protected me. He told David to get out. Made him leave immediately. That I was glad for.

All night my dad held me and told me it would be okay. I believed him, he had a way of making things better.

My birthday went well. It was just me and Dad. Mum had gone out to find David, she didn’t believe my dad or I. Thought we were lying because David wasn’t actually my dad’s kid.

It was the day after that ruined my life.

Mum had found David. And brought him back. He flipped on Dad. He yelled and punched him. Mum didn’t stop him. My dad was being hurt and she just stood there. The selfish bitch. It wasn’t really like I could do anything. She held me and made me watch, telling me it was for my own good.

David calmed. Standing over my dad with an evil grin etched on to his face. His eyes met mine and his grin widened. He pulled a gun from his pocket and with a single blast, shot my dad in the head.

Blood was every where. On the walls, the carpet, on me. I cried. I screamed. I did everything I could to get to the only man in my life who ever loved me. But he was gone, his last words were ‘I love you, Chris’. Then he was gone.”

A blank look covered Chris’ face and she told her story with no emotion at all, just staring at the wall in front of her.

“My brother was still in the house the next day. Along with the body of my father. My mum had gone out. Probably sleeping around with some guy.

I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and hid it in my jeans. I went to go talk to David. When I got close enough, I attacked him. I got a couple of good stabs to his arms and legs before he began to fight back.

I had hurt him enough that it was obvious I was going to win, whatever he did. I stabbed him in the stomach. The warm feeling of his blood soaked my hand as I slapped the son of a bitch across the face. For everything he did, he deserved a slow death. So I twisted the knife and laughed when he cried out in pain.

I don’t regret it. I never will. He destroyed the one thing that meant the world to me, and I will never forgive him.

When school started a week later, people knew. Knew that I had attacked my brother. But they thought I was a psycho. No one knew the whole story and I wasn’t about to be one to tell it.

So I left it at that. I allowed my class mates to be scared of me and insult me at every chance they got.

‘Psycho bitch.’

‘Going to stab someone else, psycho?’

‘Keep clear, here comes the psycho!’

It wore me down. I just wanted someone to talk to. I was still living with my mum but David had been locked up for first degree murder. Although I have no clue why mum wasn’t either.

Mum ignored me. It was as if I wasn’t there. And I never had been. All pictures of me and Dad were taken down and my room had been forgotten. I wasn’t talked to or about. I just didn’t exist.

It went on for seven years. Until I packed my bags and left. I came here. Started fresh. This cabin feels like home and always will. It is the one place that me and my dad still have.

I have been here for six months. I don’t want to leave either. I love the scenery and the people. It’s quiet and peaceful. It’s also far away from my home town. Which is very good. There is no chance I could accidentally bump into my mother or someone from high school.

I’m just going to live here the rest of my life.”

Chris smiled slightly and turned to me.

“Woah.” Was my intelligent response. She laughed.

“How can you laugh? You went through all that and you act like you don’t care. Your dad was killed right in front of you!” I was shocked and confused.

“Alex, I care. I care more than you will ever know. But I have to be strong. If I break down every time I tell the Goddamn story or even though about it, I would have never made it through the past seven years without crying hysterically or being sent away. So it’s better I’m emotionless than emotional.”

I thought about what she had said and realised she was probably right. She still had emotions just not when telling that particular story.

“Why did you cry when Jack called you a psycho bitch then?” I questioned.

She sighed, “You guys didn’t know. I wasn’t crying at the actual comment and the memory onslaught I had when Jack said it. It was the fact that if you did know, you’d never speak to me again.”

“I’m speaking to you.”

“Why would we stop? We love you Chris.” She gasped and our head both snapped up to the voices. Jack, Rian and Zack stood in the doorway looking both guilty and sad.

“How much did you hear?” Chris growled.

“Enough.” Zack replied.

“Enough?!” She screeched.

“Okay, I lied. We heard it all.” And with that, Chris passed out.