asked and the world would know what had happened. The car horn shook Carrie Anne’s ears and she was startled to find herself on the edge of that giant road. She had absolutely no idea how she had arrived there,as huge truck bellowed past like a juggernaut, honking a noisy warning. The wet air and the gust spat at her in a blinding mist.
Step in the road and it will all be over. One tiny step and all your confusion will be gone.
Carrie Anne took an inch forwards. Only an inch, such a small thing, such a tiny step but so much closer to that expanse of road. An inch closer and car brakes were screeching. Her heart was pounding. Was this it? Was it all over? She moved and…her father was grabbing her in a matter of seconds.
“Jesus Christ, Carrie Anne, what are you thinking? You could have been killed,” he shouted over the noise of the motorway. Her father and gripped her by the shoulders, again shouting in competition with the road noise.
“I…I…I…” she had no explanation; she wasn’t sure how she had arrived here. Her daydream had obviously had more of an effect on her, but she couldn’t think as he continued to shake her…
“You’re hurting me,” she pleaded as tears ran down her cheeks.
“Hurt you? You are lucky to be alive.” He pulled her in towards him and forced her face awkwardly towards the chaos of the road.
“Look,” he bawled. “You would be dead.”
“Good,” she thought or did she say it out loud?
A look of confusion crossed his face and somewhere her mother called, “David, David.”
“What?” he called back but as they turned the two saw a crowd forming and watching the show. Concerned faces and upset children. Carrie Anne’s mum stood a few feet away pleading with a look of wide-eyed terror on her face.
“Please stop,” she said. “Just stop.”
He looked again at the crowd and let Carrie Anne go. All three walked back to their familiar red car. The mother and father put their arms around their daughter. But to Carrie Anne it felt meaningless.
For rest of the journey they travelled in silence. There did not seem to be any conversation that could make sense for any of the turmoil that had taken place. She could not see any way out of her life. No hope and no light or tunnel. She felt sick to her stomach and overwhelmed with sheer hopelessness. Would there ever be a time when she would feel normal? Or would she have to carry on with confusion and senselessness? She looked out of the window and caught her sad reflection; it began to rain again. The world was grey and all the colour washed away with the rain.
Carrie Anne finally dozed off and was woken in the afternoon by her father declaring that they were there. She yawned and wiped the drool from her mouth and chin. Her eyes adjusted to the mid-afternoon gloom as she blinked awake. As they drove into the driveway they were shaded by green trees hiding the house from the street. From her window Carrie Anne could see a large removal truck. Its back doors were open and a ramp led men in blue overalls in and out of the van, as they brought their belongings into the house. Her father brought the car to a halt.
“Look how they are handling those boxes; Jesus, I will have to have a word with them. If one thing even has the slightest scratch, they won’t be getting a penny.” He violently pulled the hand brake, yanked his seat belt away and left the car, slamming the door behind him. Carrie Anne and her mother both watched him set the nearest removal man to rights. A moment or two later after exerting his authority in an arm-waving and heated exchange, father returned to the car.
“All set darling?” Mother asked.
“Yes,” he replied, irritated. “Just can’t get the staff. Come on, let’s see the house.”
The house father had moved them to was as large as it was isolated. It was situated in an estate of identical houses: red roofs, white painted stone walls and each window and door resembling a bored face. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms on the second floor, living room and diner and kitchen on the first. Oh and a garage. Let’s not forget the garage. However, the house Father had chosen was surrounded by large fir trees. The house Father had chosen was hidden from view.
He wants to keep you prisoner here.
As they went from one room to another, manoeuvring around boxes left there by the movers. Carrie Anne’s parents become more and more excited at what the house had to offer. Wooden floors that apparently were all the rage, grey and white painted walls throughout, which Father explained was the new magnolia. The kitchen had a dishwasher, a dishwasher! The thought of placing dirty dishes into the machine animated Mother and she clapped like a child seeing a balloon for the first time. But there were more treats to come: en-suite bathrooms, blinds instead of curtains, all the things a modern household needed. Carrie Anne had never been so bored in her life and she wandered off on her own. Off the side from the kitchen Carrie Anne found a door and through the door she found stairs that led to a dark cellar. It was a clue to the real age of the house and area despite all the modern things her parents had raved about. There was pull string hanging lazily from a dirty white fixture that she pulled. Immediately a single bare bulb lit the cellar with a buzzing sound. Carefully she walked down the creaking stairs. Each step of her Converse trainers flicked dust. At the bottom she found a musty-smelling room. The ceiling that held the bulb by a wire was made of thick oak beams with copper piping running parallel. Its walls were old with crumbling plaster. In places there was white paint, other places blue or red. But whatever the decorations had been they had long ago grown old and died. A single window no bigger than a crawl space was broken where green ivy had pushed its way in and climbed down the far wall. It was the most interesting room she had ever seen. Her concentration was broken by a scratching sound behind her. She turned and followed the noise with the curiosity of Alice. Except from the corner there was no white rabbit but instead a fat, greasy black rat.
Carrie Anne took a few steps back as the thing scuttled out, sniffing the air. She wasn’t afraid, more fascinated than anything. But she did gasp when she realised it was not alone. It chittered and from the shadow more came. Carrie Anne took to the stairs and stood on the first rung as at least thirty rats flowed into the cellar. They carpeted the floor in dirty fur and continued to the corner where the plaster had crumbled to reveal holes in the brickwork. Fascinated, Carrie Anne looked on as one by one the rats fled into the hole. Where they went from there, she had no idea. But she dare not tell her parents what she had witnessed; this was hers and hers alone. A happy distraction from herself. It was then she heard her mum calling her name.
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