Even the Sun Sets in Paradise

After just three days, life was already proving to be impossible without Mel. I felt more alone than ever and all I wanted was my best friend back. Part of me knew telling her everything was the only way she’d even consider forgiving me, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I would no doubt end up crying, the hysterical crying that’s really embarrassing, and I hated people seeing how weak I was. Then suddenly I was struck with a good idea. I ran over to the loose floor board in the corner of my room, lifted it slightly, and pulled out my diary. I’d never shown it to anyone before. It was all my deepest thoughts, darkest fears and most disturbing memories. It was all my secrets that I never wanted anyone finding out, but I was willing to risk it if it meant getting Mel back. Hands shaking, I turned over the front page and read the very first entry. It was a couple of years after the abuse from George had started. It was when I had no one, and I started the diary because it was the only place I could express myself; it was the only place where I didn’t get judged and put down. In a way, it was my most treasured possession, but also my most haunted. It contained everything, literally everything; everything from the years of abuse, to when everyone found out, to the trial, and the verdict, to when my own mum betrayed me. Then it was everything that had happened since I got here, including the guy I’d seen on the pier and the call from George. Not even Ellis, Julie and Dave knew that yet. Without another thought, I shoved the diary in my bag and asked Ellis to drive me to Mel’s.

“Are you sure about this?” Ellis asked worriedly, as we sat in the car outside her house.
“I think so,” I nodded, as a tear slipped down my cheek. Ellis cupped my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumb.
“Don’t you worry, you’re going to be fine, I promise you,” he reassured, and I nodded. Taking a deep breath, I got out the car and knocked on the front door.
“Hi,” I muttered when Mel opened the door. She forced a smile, but didn’t say anything.
“Look, I want to say I’m sorry. You’ve been the best friend in the world to me and I haven’t even been honest with you. A lot of stuff has happened over the past few years, and it’s hard for me to talk about it, so I want you to take this,” I handed her the diary, “It will answer just about everything, and I hope you’ll be able to forgive me. I know I should have told you sooner but I guess it’s better late than never.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, looking slightly confused. I shrugged, forcing a smile as I turned and walked glumly back to the car.

For the rest of the afternoon, I wandered aimlessly around the house, unable to think about anything other than Mel. Ellis told me to come to the studio with him and the guys to continue recording their album and Auntie Julie begged me to go shopping with her, but I just didn’t feel up to it. When the doorbell rang, I practically ran towards the door. Much to my relief, it wasn’t a stalker George had sent; it was Mel! She was crying and I wondered if that was a good thing or not.
“Do you wanna come in?” I asked nervously, and she nodded. We sat down in the living room, an awkward silence between us for a few moments.
“Please say something,” I whispered.
“Jenna, I don’t even know what to say,” she sighed, more tears filling her eyes. “Is all of this true?”
“Of course,” I told her, determined not to let myself cry.
“Shit, I had no idea. I read the stories in the papers, but it was all anonymous; I never would have guessed it was you. Now it all makes sense. I’m so sorry, I feel terrible. I am the worst friend in the world.”
“What are you talking about? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had; it says that in the diary,” I joked and she cracked a smile.
“But all this time I was getting angry with you when none of it was your fault. I can’t believe you’ve been through all this. You must be the most amazing person in the world; I know I’d never be able to get through all of that,” she cried.
“Don’t, you’re gonna make me cry,” I laughed, and she laughed too, instantly making me relax a bit.
“I’m sorry Jen Jenz, I don’t even know how to support you right now, I wasn’t really expecting this,” she smiled, lightening her tone, “But I’m here to listen literally any time you want, and I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Thank you so much.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I can’t believe what your mum did though. How could she choose a sick paedophile over her own daughter?”

My mind flashed back to that day in court. I’d given evidence, and now it was my mum’s turn.
“Have you ever been present when Mr Sullivan sexually abused your daughter?” the judge asked her sternly.
“No,” Mum lied, forcing out tears. I remember my stomach flipping, my heart beating out of my chest.
“Have you ever experienced Mr Sullivan being violent to either you or your daughter?”
“No, he would never do that!” she cried, “My husband would never lay a finger on me or Jenna!” I remember that feeling of despair, thinking to myself, how could she say that when they had evidence he had sexually abused me?! She’d seen him hit me with her own eyes. How could she stand there and deny everything?
“Madam, we have scientific evidence that Mr Sullivan has raped your daughter,” said the judge, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.
“He would never do that. I will not let my innocent husband go to prison for this. All he’s ever done is help us, and provide us with a safe place to live, and this is how she repays him. It’s all lies, sick twisted lies and I’m ashamed to call her my daughter.”
“Mum!” I cried across the courtroom, tears streaming down my face. I remember my mind being overwhelmed by devastating thoughts. My mother, my own flesh and blood, the one person who was meant to stick with me through everything, had betrayed me in the worst possible way. She’d looked the judge in the eye and told her I was a liar. She’d chosen her abusive and sick husband over her only daughter. It was my worst nightmare and I’d never forgive her as long as I lived.

I returned back to the present in a flash. Despite everything that had happened, despite all the endless days of suffering and terror and depression, nothing compared to the day when my own mother disowned me. I cried so much as I was escorted from the courtroom, screaming and punching walls, thinking all kinds of self-destructive thoughts. I remember all these people trying to calm me down, telling me everything would be fine, but what did they know?! They all had families, they all had friends and people to love and support them. In that moment, I had no one; I had no one at all. Of all the billions of people in the world, not a single one gave a shit about me. I remember wishing no one had found me on that night, wishing they’d left me to die. I remember I carried on crying and screaming, hitting and kicking anyone that came near me. I remember someone jabbing a needle in my arm, and then I remember waking up in the hospital with Auntie Julie sitting at my bedside. I remember that feeling, for the first time in a long time – hope.