The top of the tower is so high my eyes can’t reach it, and its sides are so wide it’s as if it’s surrounding me. I try backing up but the image doesn’t get any smaller. Even when I turn around and sprint as fast as my legs can go, I can’t escape it. All I can see are walls of cracked stone clinging on to each other and a tornado of greys and blacks hanging overhead. A maniacal laugh echoes from the sky as my legs strain to run even faster. The greys and blacks descend towards me until my surroundings are hidden behind a thick fog. I shudder and snap my head in all directions but I don’t know which way the sound is coming from.

A deep whisper intertwines with the mist and threats surround me, breaking me down to the floor. With my hair in my fists, my knees sink into the mud and I stare down at the empty ground with tears in my eyes. I start to notice the fog separating and my breath quickens, not knowing if I will be freed or become even more trapped. Cautiously, I look upward, instantly freezing as I see the moldy green hood. The shadowed face underneath erupts another shudder from within me. It’s the hooded man. He stands tall, with fists clenched at his sides and eyes I can’t see that bore into me with a dominating rage. The mist begins to enclose around me, restricting my freedom more and more; until it wraps around me and seals me inside a coffin of my worst nightmares.

“Elena, what is wrong with you?! You’ve been shouting about all sorts. I and Bill have work tomorrow you know, we don’t have time to be dealing with your little pleas for attention at 3 in the morning.” I awake to my foster mother’s scowling face hovering above me. I pinch my eyes shut, deterring any tears from appearing.

“Fine. Don’t apologize. Just kept looking at me like I’m the one that disturbed your sleep.” She scoffs, marching towards the doorway. “If I have to get up again, you won’t be leaving this room for a week.”

The door slams shut and my head falls onto my shoulder as the tears silently flow from my eyes. They know about my nightmares… They even know about the hooded man. But nobody cares about that anymore; the media sensation died down and now it’s just old news. No one cares that I’m a wreck and they don’t care that he’s still out there; that he got away. He gets to live his life like nothing happened while I’m ruined forever. I dig my nails deeply into my knuckles until they turn purple and let every tear held inside fall onto my pillow. After a while, my eyes run dry and are too sore to hold open any longer. I start to drift back into my nightmares with a dry sniffling pant.

 “Elena babe, you’re gonna be late for school.” Esther gently nudges my shoulder and I fling my head around to face her.

“How’d you get in my room?”

“The foster parasites left for work and I broke in through the window.” She shrugs nonchalantly and flicks her think caramel hair out of her face to get a clearer look at me. “You’re kidding me? You’re still getting those nightmares?” She falters, dropping to the floor with sympathy filling her eyes. I nod whilst chewing on my sleeve and she sighs sympathetically. “Come on, get in the shower and get dressed. At least school’s a distraction.” She commands me as I roll my eyes and drag myself from my bed.

I roll down the window of Esther’s Ford and stick my head out to let the strong breeze knock away my senses, but Esther grabs a hold of my arm and pulls me back in. “I know what you’re doing. You can’t ignore the world you know. It’s here for you to live in.” She focuses on the road as she lectures with an omniscient tone.

“I thought it was here to die in.” I roll my eyes over to her with a sarcastic smirk.

“Since when are you such a downer?” She mirrors my expression switching her eyes from the road for a brief moment.

“Well, my foster parents are demons in disguise, the guy I’m in love with hates me and my only real friend is a 25 year old know it all that works with drunks for a living.”

“Hey I don’t work with drunks. Their like my pigs and I’ the farmer feeding them their slop.” She defends, swerving around the bend. “HEY BUTTWIPE MOVE YOUR ASS WILL YOU?” She shrieks out the window as I jolt in my seat. “ I swear to Lucifer, if I miss my shift at the bar because of that tramp, I’m tracking her down and slashing her tyres.”

“She was like 60 years old Ess.” I chuckle. “Maybe instead of work, you should check out an anger management group.”

“Oh shut up baby Lanie”

“You shut up oldie Essie” I retort, stepping out of the car, pulling my violet pencil skirt over my trim yet well-fleshed thighs. Esther throws me a huge smile and drives away, leaving me to my own survival.

As the sound of her tyres running over the gravel fades, Brian Myer slides over to me and flirtatiously hip bumps me from the side. “What’s cookin’, plum puddin’?”

“Please stop calling me that.” I roll my eyes, walking away from him. He runs his fingers through his styled gelled hair and bites his lip before jogging to catch up to me. “Wake up on the wrong bed this morning Plumy?”

“Wrong bed?” I question, trying not to pay too much attention to him.

“Well yeah, I mean it wasn’t mine…” He laughs like a baboon in response to his own joke and I sigh with annoyance as I try to turn the other way to get to my class. But before I can Brian grabs a hold of my arm and spins me back around to face him. “You can’t ignore me forever plumb” He purrs leaning closer. Looking down at me with seduction in his eyes, he slowly bites his bottom lip; still holding onto my arm. “After all, our parents seem to want what I want.” He leans further in, giving me a cocky grin.  “Wear something pretty tonight doll.”

I snatch my arm from his grip and snarl “They are not my parents.” I stare him down for a second then storm away from him with fury and confusion playing tug of war in my head.

I plop down on the first available seat I see and cross my arms over my chest, clenching my jaw with frustration. “Why does everyone treat me like a damn house pet?”

“Because you’re pathetic and you let them.”

I jerk my head towards the person next to me and instantly jerk it back towards my lap, pursing my lips with embarrassment.

“I could call you a friendless weirdo with the attractiveness of a rat dropping and you would just sit there with your puppy dog eyes and take it.” Evan mocks, leaning back in his chair with arrogance.  I take a silent breath and tense my shoulders lifting my head back towards him.

“I’d take my way over your way any day.” I declare, turning my nose up at him. In response he chuckles, most likely thinking me to be naïve. As I start to analyse his features, I notice a hint of something I’m not sure I recognise. His dirty blonde hair has the same careless flip and the dimples on his cheeks display the same arrogance that I’m used to, but the glint in his eyes shows no intent to hurt. Without a sign of malice, I’m left to ponder why it is that he said what he said.

 “So, gossip me. What happened with Evan?” Esther chants with enthusiasm, pulling out of the school car park.

“That’s not what I’m thinking about right now.”

“Since when is your every thought not dominated by the hell-bred hunk?” Snorts Esther, as I roll my eyes.

“Since Brian Myers told me our parents want what he wants. Like what the hell does that even mean?” I huff, flailing my arms.

“Lord that’s annoying.”

“I know right. It’s gonna bug me all night not knowing what he meant.”

“No, I meant being referred to as the spawn of the Satan twins.” She cringes, encouraging an amused smile to form on my face.

I pause, the smile still smeared across my face as I stare over at her. “God I love you.”

I enter my front door with a sigh of relief as I hear my foster parents clanging around in the kitchen. After today I need to have some alone time with my imagination. I need to escape. I take my opportunity and creep up the stairs on my tiptoes, anxious not to step on any of the creaky spots.

“Elena.” I cringe as I feel the stair dent beneath my foot and hear my name spat out. For a second I freeze, hoping they might ignore it. But just as I go to continue sneaking to my room, I hear the clatter of heels against the laminate flooring.

“Elena. Get dressed. We have dinner guests coming over in 10 minutes. I laid a dress out on your bed, I want you to look presentable, not like the clothes those troubled gothic trollops sell that seem to take up your entire wardrobe.” My step mother commands as she stares up at me as if I’ve just been caught with her law degree and a lighter. My sigh of relief is replaced with a sigh of discontentment as I trudge up the stairs to get ready for whatever hell was in store for me this evening.

Wearing the dress Morgan had picked and with my hair neatly straitened, I hesitate in the mirror, hearing every comment on my appearance echoing through the room. Looking at my ebony eyebrows I can hear every time Morgan told me they made me look like a man. But I like the way they accentuate my dark eyes. I can hear every time she said my wide eyes gave me a face like Kermit. And how along with my button nose and plump lips, I’m as disproportioned as a Picasso painting. But I actually like the fact that you can pick me out of a crowd.

My eyes drift down to the outfit she chose and I feel a hint of nausea because now, I do look like every other girl you see in the street. If I let her turn me into this perky little Jane that she wants me to be, then I’ll lose who I am. And that’s one thing I won’t stand for. I jerk my head away from the mirror and begin to rip the dress off of me. I grab at the sleeves and pull it past my chest, but as I go to push it to the floor, the burn mark on my arm begs me to stop. My foster mother doesn’t appreciate people disobeying her, and as much as I want to stay true to myself, I’m not going to risk getting on her bad side again.

Each step down the stairs in my baby pink kitten heels feels like a step of betrayal to myself. It may seem as insignificant as an outfit, but I doubt this is the end of her pursuit for control over me. After all, it was a single assassination that paved the way for World War I. Every mountain starts with one atom and every abusive relationship starts with one comment.

With a forced smile stitched onto my face, I glide into the kitchen with a poised façade. My spine stretches towards the ceiling as I pose like a porcelain doll on display. Morgan’s eyes travel over my ensemble and I’m met with a less disapproving eye roll than I’m used to. “This is Albert and Andria Myer, Albert is the senior partner at your Mother’s firm.” Maurice, my foster father declares, threatening me with his eyes to stay quite.

I nod politely in response, widening my fake smile to greet them without words as my head fills with rage. They have never treated me as their child, and even if I’d wanted to call her my mother, I had been forbidden to do so the minute I walked through the door.

“And this is their son.” My mouth drops and my eyes widen, tarnishing my suburban daughter  mask, as the corner of the room steals my attention.

“You two go to school together, don’t you?”

“Yeah we’re real close, aren’t we plum?” Brian boasts to me as his cocky smirk lifts higher and he struts towards the counter.

“Well I should hope so” Maurice scoffs “That is why we’re here isn’t it?”