Mia James

Preface - Mia James

PLEASE READ: This story is set at the beginning of Mia's childhood, it does not start at where Never Let Go finished....it is merely following her life as she grows up in the world she did, it explains why she acts the way she is known to be in Never Let Go....so, think of this as Mia's own personal prequel.

Hope you enjoy a look into her life, thanks for reading.

Also, uploads will be once every two weeks on a Sunday.

~ ~ Preface ~ ~

I don’t remember much of my parents, but what I do remember isn’t something I share with anyone. Not even my own brother. My dad played a dark, looming shadow in my nightmares for years after we left and my mum is just a distant memory. However, the sound of her high pitched and scratchy voice screaming words at me that no child should ever hear is still fresh in my mind.

Moss on the other hand, well, he plays a very big part in my childhood memories and even my life. I remember climbing into his bed at night because I was scared, or him sneaking into my room to check up on me. I remember sitting on the cold kitchen floor while he made me toast and humming my favourite lullaby to make me feel safe. I remember the feel of his childlike arms wrapped around my own as he told me stories to block out the sounds going on outside the bedroom door.

I even remember mum screaming at, and hitting, him countless times - he later told me it was because he would get busted stealing food; food that I had been silently sobbing for because I was hungry and malnourished.

Despite his flaws, he was a good big brother with his heart in the right place. Only, he continued to do the wrong thing..., which over time was hard to tell that he was actually doing the wrong thing, because it seemed like natural behaviour to me.

I was five when we were taken from our home and away from our unfit parents. Two events occurred on that same night, one right after the other. The first, being my almost death.

All that I really remember was waking up in pain with a deep booming voice echoed all around me. Dad had stormed into my room and tore me from my bed; breaking my arm in the process before he flung my tiny body out into the hallway and slamming me into the wall, causing me to hit my head hard enough to knock me out cold.

Moss told me later that he woke up and stepped out into the hallway, his eyes meeting my unconscious body with blood trickling down the side of my face and my arm sitting in a weird angle. Poor boy thought I was dead and lost it.

He was nine years old and went through what some call a moment of strength, the sight of me lying like that and the thoughts of me being dead, sent him over the edge. He took a baseball bat to dad, attacking him before picking my body up and running out of the house.

About a block away, an old woman was just climbing out of her beat up car, Moss called out for help and after she got over her initial shock, she helped him place me in the backseat, but my brother had different plans. He punched the old woman and stole her car, claiming he couldn’t trust anyone apart from himself to get me to the hospital.

I think this is what really started the change in his behaviour.

Unfortunately for him, or maybe not, he was a shitty driver and ran up the rear end of a cop car at the first stop sign he came across.

The next thing I know, we are living with a young couple and two boys. I don’t really remember much about that place because we were moved to another pretty quick - thanks to Moss. However, I do remember being scared and attached to his hip constantly.