Her Lost Identity

I'm british and this story is set in California, meaning the spellings won't be American. Nor will all of the phrases, but I'll try my best.

 Prologue

2007

"Lilian, I'm here to help you... If you don't talk to me, I can't help you," Ellie, my social worker, told me, determined to get me to speak.

I didn't look up. I just sat at the desk I'd been sat at for the past two days. I had examined the entire room; it was the only thing that could keep me occupied. The room was fairly small. The walls were a depressing grey colour; they had no life in them at all, not even a window leading to light. The floor was grey carpeted, the same shade as the walls. There was one white door which made a change from all the grey; it had a golden doorknob that twisted every time someone would enter. It would have definitely been the most boring room I had ever had to sit in.

I had eaten nothing but biscuits that the workers here forced me to eat. What they didn't know that I was pretty used to not eating for two days straight, and one time I hadn't eaten for three days. That was because my mum never worked. Vincent, my stepfather didn't allowed her to. Of course, mum got welfare for me, but that was no use. Vincent would always take it out of her account, buy beers with it and then keep the rest for later.

I heard Ellie's heels walking off after my silent response. I didn't feel bad for leaving her in the dark like that; I didn't feel anything apart from hurt. I was hurt that my own mother chose her violence junkie of a husband. I wasn't angry, I was just simply hurt. I don't understand how anyone could do that to their child? Maybe if their child was the worst child in the world, it wouldn't be half as bad, but that wasn't the case. I loved my mum; I stuck by her side through everything. I comforted her when he hit her. I always stuck by her.

I hadn't had anything to drink. My throat was all dry and so were my lips. I hadn't spoken to anyone since I'd got here. What difference would it have made? It wouldn't change the fact that I had been sent to care because my mum loved her husband more than she loved me. He would hit her, no one knew about that though. I'd always love my mum but what she did to me is something I'll never forget. I would never forgive her, even if I wanted to. What pained me most about leaving was leaving my best friend, Nathan. He meant the world to me. He was the reason I hadn't killed myself - life was that bad. Nathan could always make me happy, whatever the weather, whatever the way. I snapped out of my thoughts as I heard footsteps coming my way.

"Lilian, you need to understand that you have to talk to us... You don't want to be stuck here until you're 18 now, do you?" Ellie asked me.

"No," I croaked. My throat was too dry to say anything clear.

"Well, are you going to let me help you then?" she questioned, scribbling something down in her notebook. I'd still not looked up; my black, greasy hair still covering my face. I still had not moved. I bit my lip in thoughts. I nodded in response to Ellie.

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