Belle

Chapter 3

Night is a upon me. The white freckles in the deep blue sky help lighten my mood. Whenever I look at them I see my mother. Petite, brown hair, blue eyes and little freckles that twinkled nearly as much as the stars. A vision. They say I'm just like her. By they I mean my school teachers. Bright, intelligent and with her whole life ahead of her. But they didn't know her life would end at 34. They didn't know that a few days after her 34rd birthday she'd be told that the breast cancer that "she'll win" had spread. She was never told she'd have to leave her 5 year old daughter and 11 year old son, before the end of that year. They never knew. They taught my 16 year old mother to structure a sentence, but she had her whole life ahead of her. Right?
After my mother died, everyone found it hard to keep it together. Except me.
"Little belle, isn't she doing so well. Full of smiles"
"She probably doesn't understand. I mean she's just lost her mother and now her father too, she's too young to know"
But I wasn't, I understood perfectly. I knew dad wasn't happy. I'd go into his room at night and stand by the open door, his sound of sobering echoed the halls of the house. Before I lifted up the bottom of the duvet, wiggling and riggling until I reached the top next to him.
"Daddy, don't be sad Mommy's an angel now"
He'd clasped me into his bare hair chest, still sobbing. Stroking head until I fell asleep.
But one night, I heard no echoing through the halls. No creaking doors or dodgey floors. Silence. I skip soundlessly across to the same door frame I stand by every night. But everything was still. I climb from the bottom of the duvet to the top, wiggling and riggling and giggling as usual. But nothing. As I go to the top my father lying there. Asleep, to the naked eye.
"Daddy, daddy!"
Nothing
"Daddy wake up! I riggled and wiggled daddy"
Silence
"Daddy"
My tiny finger tips played with his chest hair twiddling it around, before tucking my head into his grizzly neck and falling asleep.
Little belle was no loner smiling. Little belle was alone.
My freezing cold feet hung off the old door steps, as I watched another parent being drove away in a long black car.
"Come on Isabella get your things and say bye to your old house. You've got a new house now full of other children, how exciting"
The last memory of that car journey was turning round just as the car pulled off, watching the "for sale" sign flutter around in the wind.
Me and my brother Luke, lived in the children's home for 3 years before being fostered permanently. Luke was a very difficult child. He enjoyed intimidating the other children in the home, punishing them if they'd done wrong. It was hard to find a home for both of us to stay. When Luke turned 16 he joined the army then the military. Leaving me with the Forster family. I didn't mind, for once I felt happy again. Days out, holidays abroad, birthday parties. I felt like a normal young girl .Then reality smacked me in the face. Luke was home. By now I was 14 and Luke had been kick out of the military for using and selling drugs on camp. The Forster family gave him back his room, telling him he can stay until his back on he feet. He wasn't the same Luke. Old Luke never had a shower for 3 days, and entering his room was at your own risk but no. He showered 3 times a day, using sanitation products regularly. His room was spotless not a hair out of place. He frightened me. But all of this was the lead up to the day. And this day changed my life for good.