I looked at the house I used to live in all those years ago. I walked past it the day a new family were about to make this house their home. Funnily enough, they looked oblivious to the horrors that had taken place five decades ago when I lived there with my family. Feeling generous, I went to their front door introduced myself as Anne and offered to help them settle in. The couple seemed eager to have someone helping them in this new neighbourhood, so they let me in. The interior struck me. It looked like the mirror image of how it had looked in my childhood. The rug on the floor flooded back the raw and painful memories. Even as a sixty-year-old, I could not erase the past that had scarred me for life. 

The drilling pulled me out of the dark memory lane. 

With a sigh of relief, I helped the young woman move the furniture around while her husband put a photo up on the wall. Out of interest, I asked, “why did you buy this property?” 

In unison, they answered, “It seemed like the perfect place to start a family.” 

The woman continued, “A quiet neighbourhood is great for children, they can play and be free, the air is cleaner than the city.” 

I smiled with a lack of emotion. My heart felt heavy, and tears suddenly sprung to my eyes. Overwhelmed, I promised I’d return tomorrow to give them a hand. We shook hands, and I walked back home, wishing I could hold on to the childhood I had lost. I ran a bath to calm down. My past was one I would not bring into my present and future. 

I stepped into the warm water that filled the tub. I went under. I had to erase any memory that would damage my sheltered life. After having trouble breathing, I emerged from the water. I dried myself off and sat in my living room. The walls were painted white, and every piece of furniture was white. There were no ornaments or decorations on any of the walls- they reminded me of my happy childhood. My head felt clear, and I went to sleep. 

The next day I woke up and got ready into a simple outfit: jeans and a plain top. I never wore dresses since I was about ten years old. I detest to this day any girly outfits as it reminded me of my mother. 

My walk to the couple’s home was long but beneficial. My house had become a prison. I trapped myself within the walls, unable to cope with the reality I lived in. I was lonely and unable to form stable relationships; I could trust no one. 

The couple’s home still contained items from my childhood, such as the wallpaper; they had transformed it, so it was homely. I spent dinner with them, talked for a while, then trudged back home, feeling empty inside. I questioned whether life was worth living and went into a fruitless slumber. 

I wake up in my bed, and I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience in my old residence. My mother comes over to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek and says “I love you.” I am so satisfied I go back to sleep. When I wake up, something automatically feels off. I walk down the spiral staircase in the large mansion and go to my sister’s bedroom. She is in her bed; she is unresponsive. I shake her and pull back the covers. The sight is so sickening. Her neck is bruised black and broken. I pass out. When I finally wake up, I search rapidly for my mum. Suddenly I hear a scream, I rush downstairs and hide in my best hiding spot. To the corner of my eye, I see a woman and a man holding my mother down and stabbing her. The knife spurts crimson blood everywhere. My stomach lurches, and I want to scream; something stops me. I watch as they slit her throat. The blood drains as she gasps for breath. My body gives way, and I collapse on the spot. 

I wake up in a hospital bed and hear a voice saying: “Anne, are you all right?”

I reply with," Yes. Why am I here and where is my mummy?"

The doctor says," Calm down, everything will be all right."

I cut through her talking and ask again," Where are my mum and Valeria?" 

The doctor replies," Sorry to inform, but your mum and sister are dead."

I just laugh. This woman sounds stupid. How can she tell me my mum and sister are gone? The reality sinks in, and I cry uncontrollably.

My morning alarm is so loud I wake up. I am sitting in my large bed, and all the walls are white. I realised my visit to the house had bought back my dreams. I reached out and pour out one too many of the pills on my bedside table. I could end it all. Besides, who would remember me, Anne. The loner. The evil one who watched her family die before her eyes. Life has no meaning. I should be dead. I have lived for fifty years in misery. My ultimate wish is death. The pill bottle rattles and I swallow the amount in my hand with a smile on my face. Mother Valeria- here I come. 

I wake up in a hospital bed, and a voice is saying," You are lucky God has given you a second chance at life. You are fortunate to be alive." Unable to talk, a lone tear drops from the corner of my eye. 

The white walls are closing in on me, suffocating me. Blood is leaking down the walls. Mum on the floor-butchered. Blood spats everywhere.Valeria is walking towards me with a broken neck...