Prologue

“Who’s to blame, for the life the tragedies claim?

No matter what you say, it don’t take away the pain. 

That I - feel inside, I’m tired of all the lies,

Don’t nobody know why, it’s the blind leading the blind. 

Guess that’s the way that the story goes,

Will it ever make sense? Somebody’s gotta know. 

There’s got to be more to life than this,

There’s got to be more to everything I thought exists. 

We are, we are -

The youth of the nation.

We are, we are -

The youth of the nation.”

P.O.D.

   Make it stop - please, make it stop! Oh God - stop, PLEASE!  

   But it never would, no mater how much she begged. 

   It was like this, night after night, whenever he came home from work, the screaming would start.  As the dark and twisted shadows crept around Helen’s bedroom the yelling and crying wound its way up the staircase, filling the corridors and seeping under the doors.  She crouched in the very corner of her room and listened to the same arguments that her parents threw at one another over and over again, always the same, always shattering to the bone. 

   She pressed her hands tighter and tighter over her ears, willing it to end, praying it would stop before something got broken.  Or maybe someone.  Tears spilled down her face with renewed fervour; her mother ran up the stairs, screaming about his late nights and did he think she was stupid saying it was ‘just work’ all the time and who was this Sarah anyway and did he think she was stupid?!

   What the Hell do you want from me was always, always the response, and then more crying, pleading, be home, be home for the birthdays, spend time with me, spend time with us!

   It’s never enough, never enough is it?!  And then the sound of picture frames smashing off the walls, more screaming, resonating off the heavy bricks of the house, more crying, and stop it - you’ll wake the children. 

   Please make it stop.  Helen rocked on the balls of her feet, hugging her knees, her back against the radiator.  She could hear her brother in the room next to her; pulling the covers off his bed and dragging them to the floor, heaving them over his head, hiding in the wardrobe.  She wanted to run in there with him, have him curl up in her lap and they would rock to sleep together, like always.  But the fight was right outside her room; she was trapped. 

   She ran her fingers through her hair, it was slick through with sweat, tears splashed on her knees, her pyjamas were soaked.  There was screaming, back and forth, back and forth, like a tennis match of will power, and still they did not move. 

   Please - just let me out!

   Helen buried her wet face in her hands, sobs shuddering from within her ribcage, rattling out, tearing through her throat.  The silky material of her nightwear stuck fast to her back, and she was so, so cold. 

   She took her hands away from her face and slowly looked at them, her breath ragged and thick, her eyes glassy and wide. 

   Water was running down her arms, pouring in little jagged streams into her lap, onto the floor, the carpet; she was sitting in a puddle.  Her breathing very nearly came to a stop, her stomach contorting, sucking in air sporadically, making her heave.  Her eyes were on her shaking hands, trembling under her terrified gaze.  It was as if she were holding them under an invisible fountain, or the fat ornate tap in the bath; water was bubbling and gurgling from her palms, splashing all over her even more vigorously now she was giving it her full attention, as if fuelled by her mere concentration on the act. 

   Her parents screaming reached fever pitch, doors slamming and ornaments breaking.  Helen gasped for air.  “What’s happening, WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?!”  The gage on the radiator spun off, smacking into the bookcase, and the boiling, pressurized water shot out of it’s metal casing, spraying the room and everything in it.  Now it was Helen’s turn to scream. 

   All over the house, the radiators, all turned up to the max to get them through the winter months, burst open, tearing through the rooms, drenching the walls and furniture.  John was screaming, the dogs barked and howled, and the emersion tank broke loose of it’s fitting in the attic and came crashing through into the landing.  The water cascaded down the walls, just as it was pouring from her hands, flooding her room. 

   Her parents beat on the locked as she crumpled to the ground. 

   “Please - make it stop - just make it STOP!”