Silent Killer preview

Prologue
The house I grew up in was perched gently on the slope of a grassy hill. It faced open landscapes which in my mother’s eye, held many dangers. From the top of the hill, the fields below looked like patchwork jigsaws. She always seemed to be in her own world when she stood on top of that hill. It was quiet, but it was eerie at the same time. The silence made even spookier by the silent breeze of the wind. Our little house squeezed us all in though. My two brothers, my little sister, mum, dad and me. The winter months were particularly chilly, as we only had a wood fire. Wood was not easily accessible in the winter as the hill would become very slippery, and thick with snow. But we were happy. Our little house sheltered us from the outside, wrapping us in its warmth. The family gradually grew. More bricks were added, a fresh lick of paint here and there. Old pieces of carpet retrieved to cover the growing floors. Not to mention the creaky floorboards. But at least I had somewhere I could call home.

Chapter One

AGE FOUR.
I am being pushed along in my buggy by mum. We have just returned from a trip into town. Sometimes we take the bus. But most of the time we walk. It doesn’t take us long, about half an hour on foot. Ten minutes by bus. It’s raining. The rain drops drip down the clear waterproof hood of my buggy. The recent arrival of my baby brother has confused me. Before he arrived, I was always the centre of attention, the apple of my mother’s eye. But all that has changed now. Now most of her attention has to go to the newborn. Cameron his name is. Mum and Dad have divided my room into two rooms now. The bigger section is Cameron’s. He makes it known that half of my room is now his space, with his constant crying and screaming. But in mum’s eyes, those cries and screams are nothing. She often says that I was like that when I was his age. In her view, those cries and screams are signals that he needs protection. Along with either feeding or changing. I sometimes try and help mum with the usual duties. Cameron has taken the attention and focus away from me. But I still love him as my brother. He doesn’t have any judgements or expectations placed on him.

AGE FIVE.
Well, today is my first day at a local primary school. I’m wearing a red and grey uniform, and carrying a little red school bag that contains my pencil case and books. Mum is walking me to school on my first day. And of course we’re taking Cameron along in his pram. The pram that used to be mine, the one that I rode in when Mum and Dad used to take me into town. Or down to the local park to feed the ducks. It took us bout 15 minutes by bus to get the school this morning. Traffic was quite busy. There are a lot of other mum’s nervously waving their children off for their first day at school. In I go along with all my other classmates. I’m scared, very scared. I wish mum was here right now. Here to comfort me and tell me that everything is going to be ok. But she isn’t. She’s gone back home. Back home to look after Cameron.

The time to go home eventually arrives. I have made a few new friends. And I’ve been invited along to a few houses. But I don’t think mum will let me go. She’s always been protective of me. I think it has something to do with her past. She won’t tell anyone. Not even Dad. I think it beings back too many memories.

AGE SIX.
Gran has come to look after me for a few days. Mum has gone into hospital. But Gran won’t tell me why. One thing I do know is that she is having another baby. Dad walks in the door with a big smile on his face. “It’s a beautiful little girl. You are now the big sister of a gorgeous little girl.” he says as he hugs me and Gran tightly. Mum then comes in, holding the new bundle of joy. She’s been named Shannon. She’s wrapped in a white blanket. Mum sits on the sofa in the ling room. She still has hold of Shannon. Gran invites me over to have a look at my new baby sister. So I cautiously made my way over. I peek over Mum’s shoulder at Shannon. She’s gorgeous. She’s got Dad’s blue eyes, and Mum’s perfect rosebud shaped lips. Her hair is as fine as a newborn kitten’s fur. All wispy on top of her small head. A little miracle as some would say. But I know what this new arrival will bring. Twice as much screaming and crying. Twice as much stress for mum and dad. Nowadays, they always seem to be shouting at each other, Gran tells me it’s just the stress of another baby. I wish Gran could be here all the time. She’s like a second mother to me. Letting me stay at her house on odd occasions, taking me to places where Mum and Dad would never think of taking me. Such as swimming. They would never think about taking me there. Too many people, too dangerous were just two of the many excuses that they came up with.

AGE NINE.
The children filled, growing up house is now busier than ever. Another baby arrived. Another little boy. He’s called John. Looks a lot like his older brother Cameron. Cameron is five now, and at the same primary school as me, except he’s in a different class. The first year class as most of my school mates call it.
Back home, there’s a lot more control than there used to be. Orange squash is full of sugar and not good for you. Coca Cola isn’t allowed because it’s far too expensive and runs out very quickly. Sweets are not even mentioned. It’s as if all the normal things have become taboo. But I guess there is one good thing. We now have a dog. A 3 year old border collie puppy called Molly. She’s absolutely gorgeous. And she’s really good around the rest of the family. When mum is busy with the two babies, Molly either comes into my room for some attention, or she sits by the fire, with her head resting on her front paws. Dad sometimes takes her out for a walk in the surrounding fields. I go with him occasionally.
AGE 11.
Today is the first day that I attend my new secondary school. I travelled by bus this morning. I looked at Mum’s face as she waved me off this morning. I saw a look of sadness in her eyes as she waved. I get the feeling she thinks that I’m not coming back. I’m sat on the concrete steps outside the secondary school. Te uniform is very similar to that of my old primary school. Except this time we have to wear a white shirt, navy blue jumper, black trousers and black shoes. A black skirt is optional for the girl’s. Some of them wear very short black skirts, with knee high boots. I reckon they are the girls that think they look good in whatever they wear, as long as it’s tight fitting and short. I’m surrounded by nervous looking boys and boys. Our class tutor is called Mr Riley. He’s quite a tall man, with greying hair and glasses. He doesn’t look mean though. I’m glad when he tells us to sit with someone we don’t know. But I’m not so glad when I find out my best friend Leigha has picked out someone else to sit with. So there I am, sat on my own at the back of the class. One girl in my tutor has already taken a dislike to me. She think’s I’m poor just because I don’t have a Dolce & Gabbana bag like she does. I don’t care though. I’m happy with the bag I have. Just a plain black one with band patches sewn onto it. I’ve grown out of liking all that rubbish pop music. I’m into stuff like Green Day now. Mum says all that rock music will do me no good. But I don’t care. I’m growing up now. OK, I may only be 11. But that doesn’t mean I have to act like it.

AGE 13.
The teen years. I’m sat at a wooden desk during an exceptionally boring history lesson. I’ve made friends with a girl called Callie. She’s a really nice girl underneath the hard exterior. She comes from a troubled background though. When she was just five, she had to witness her mother being abused by her father. Callie was abused as well, the poor lass. She likes heavy metal music. Always dresses in a lot of black. I think they call her a goth. It’s a term I’m not too familiar with. But oh well. I try not to think about that too much.
The teacher we have today kept banging about the First World War. I really cannot be bothered with this lesson. I wish I could have found somewhere to skive off. Instead of paying attention like I should be, I sit doodling on the back of my exercise book. Teacher hasn’t noticed that most of the class are half asleep. Eventually the bell rings for break. We all run to the canteen to get our break time nibbles. Callie doesn’t bother. Instead we meet up with a few other friends and go to the library. It’s nice and quiet in there. We found a table to sit at. Most of us have brought along an extra notebook for doodling in. I forgot mine today. Oh well.

AGE 14.
What is about me that that the rest of the P.E group don’t like? Is it that I’m not as thin as some of them are? Is it my P.E kit? I’m always that last girl to be picked. Not that I’m bothered. I’ve never liked sport anyway. I’m not a natural athlete. Three subjects that seem particularly hot at the moment are food, change and weight. Food is a practicality. You eat every day to survive. But that’s not how some of the girl’s see it. They see food as an enemy. As something that wants to take over their lives. I never really think about it. Occasionally when the other girl’s talk about their clothes size and what they eat do I listen. But not with intent. On very few occasions do I think about my size. But not in the way that they do. I know I have grown a little. But that’s what comes with the ‘change’. The dreaded change that all girls seem to fear. I guess the change has been quite exciting really. It’s been like some sort of race.
First it was about who got their, ahem, period first. Then it was about cup size. I can’t keep up. One girl in tutor is always boasting that she went through the change when she was just 12. She’s ahead of the class in almost all ways.
He always seems to be writing essays, most of which are then read out in class. Things here in year 10 are much more complicated than they were in year 7. Callie has been sucked into this phase of losing a lot of weight. I think she’s starting to look too thin. Her other friends are always dieting. One of them hardly eats a thing. One day when she was sat with us, she told us what she eats and drinks on a typical day. She would have nothing for breakfast, very little at lunch time, and when she got home, she would lie to her parents and say that she had eaten at a friend’s house. I try not to get drawn into it all.

AGE 16.
Callie changed in a bad way. She found this gang of girls who did nothing but smoke, and talk about boys. I didn’t like the fighting between us. So we eventually grew apart. I managed to make friends with another gang of girls. We got out on some Friday nights, and go to the local night club. Except the club we go to isn’t like any other normal club. It’s an alternative club. It plays heavy metal type music. I turned into a goth a year ago. I just wanted to be someone different to the rest of the world. Nothing gets in my way. Success is starting to get more important to me. I actually want to do well when I’m older. Some people make me so angry. All they do is sit around, getting stoned and rat arsed as I now call it. Don’t they care about their future? My GCSE results came through. I passed them all. I was so happy. I’m planning to go to college and study there for around a year. Maybe two if I get on ok.

AGE 18.
There is change in the air. All of a sudden, people are talking about university applications, getting jobs, moving houses etc. I’ve moved out of the ‘growing up’ house now that I’m 18. I’m staying with a friend while I look for a place of my own. I can’t believe it. I’m moving on. Going it alone. I sometimes struggle to imagine what I will be like. I’m trying hard to imagine what my new place will hopefully look like. I should go and visit Mum and Dad. Just to assure them that I’m ok. They worry so much when I’m not around, especially Mum. I don’t know about Dad. I know he’ll be worried, but not as worried as Mum will be. Yep, I’ve made the decision. When I finally find my own place, I’m going to visit the family. Either that, or invite them all down to my place and call it a mini housewarming party. It’ll be great to see Cameron now that he’s all grown up. I bet he’s changed a lot since the last time I saw him. I reckon he’s a proper little teenager now. Probably has all the girls chasing after him. Or maybe he’s chasing after a girl. Bless him. I’m going to a party tonight. I can’t decide what to wear. Should I wear my Dolce & Gabbana dress or something different? The Dolce dress it is. Short and black. Perfect!
It will take me a few hours to get ready. Well I’ve got to get in the shower, put my straighteners onto heat up, which will take a while. Then there’s the make up to do. Oh, I don’t know. A girl’s work when getting ready for a party never seems to end.

It’s party time. I’m feeling a bit left out. There are so many people I don’t know. I’ve spotted Callie and Sherynne near the drinks bar. I’ll talk to them. “You’ve lost weight” says Callie eyeing me up in my Dolce & Gabbana dress. “Have I?” I reply feeling rather confused. I’ve never really been told that before. It’s never really been my point of interest. But now I see it in a different light. It really feels like a compliment now.