It was dark, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. I could hear my footsteps on the ground, pounding and throbbing as they connected to the earth. I could hear my breath raspy, jagged and uneven, and then I felt it. The hard cold hand on my shoulder, digging its razor sharp nails into my skin. It was still dark, so, so dark and cold, as the winter air moved in and focused my attention on the sudden agonising pain in my shoulder, the touch of death.
Ebony Black is a 17 year
I woke up in a daze; my eyes were blurry and unfocused. I sat up slowly; my head was pounding and spinning. I lay back down and waited for my eyes to clear so I could see where I was. My mind was dark and blank I couldn’t remember anything of the night before. I glanced at my surroundings.
“Not again” I murmured croakily.
I was once again laid on the rough uncomfortable bed of a very small jail cell. There was a loud tinny knock on the thick metal door to my cell. The small hatch opened and a tray of disgusting looking food was posted through. The tray was smothered with grey lumpy mash, one wrinkly dry piece of fatty chicken and a small plastic yellow cup filled with murky water. I stared at it in disgust and knocked it to the floor, the food seeped into a filthy puddle in the middle of my small rank cell. A tiny streak of bright sunlight shone through the small slit of a window at the top of the cell, it hurt my eyes. My head kept banging and raging, this was a really bad hangover. I staggered my way over to the small sink on the wall and looked up slowly at the scratched plastic mirror glued to the wall. My long black hair was in knots around my shoulders and sticking up all over my head. My make-up was smudged around my emerald green eyes and I had lipstick smeared up my cheek. I looked in closer to the mirror and saw that I had a bleeding gash in my for-head and a deep purple bruise around my eye.
“Well I had a fun night” I muttered
I heard the door to my cell swing open with a loud creek to the left of me.
“Miss. Black” said one of the prison guards “Your father has sent your bail, you’re free to go”
I swung round to face the door and dragged my feet out of the cell. I made my way down the long grey corridor, past the never-ending line of metal cell doors. I felt the guards hand on my shoulder leading me down the corridor.
“Could you tell me why I was here?” I asked slowly holding my sore head in my hand
“You got into a fight with the bouncer of a club” the guard said with a smirk
“Which club?” I asked, I wanted to know where I was banned from now.
“The Crypt” he said in a monotone voice.
“Great” I thought “That was my favourite club”
I went to the main desk of the prison and collected my belonging, which consisted of my mobile phone with its cracked screen and missing 5 key, my silver locket with a picture of my mum and dad inside and finally my black biker boots. I stepped out into the blinding sunlight outside. Everyone was bustling by me going about their everyday business, it was so busy today. I rang for a taxi and sat down on the kerb waiting for it, quickly dodging my feet out the way every time a car or bicycle came past. The light was too bright, it hurt. The taxi pulled up next to me and I heaved myself up from the ground and dragged my feet into the back seat of the car.
“The Crypt nightclub please” I asked
“Isn’t it a little early to be clubbing?” the driver asked
“I’m collecting my bike” I replied
“Spent a night in the cells have you?” he asked with a chuckle
“Just drive” I said snappily
I slid down in my seat and closed my eyes; my head was drumming, banging and throbbing in my head. Eventually I drifted off to sleep in the back of the taxi. I saw so many images and faces in my dream, I saw my Mum saying goodbye to me the day she disappeared, and I was only 12 years old, it was Valentine’s Day. She was stood in the hallway in her awful fluorescent pink jogging suit with her white Alice band holding her chocolate brown hair out of her blue eyes. She was desperately trying to squeeze her size 8 feet into a pair of size 6 trainers whilst plugging her headphones into her ears. I pattered into the hallway with a drawing I’d made of my Mum in her wedding dress. I loved the photo of her and my Dad on their wedding day; she looked just like a princess. My Mum smiled at me and took the drawing; she folded it carefully and put it into her jacket pocket. My Dad gave my Mum a gentle kiss on her lips and a huge hug and said he would see her later for her presents, my Mum bent down to kiss my forehead and give me a hug before leaving jogging down the driveway. What should have been a romantic meal for two and enough roses for an army turned into a mess of smashed plates, screwed up rose petals, food on the walls and a 12 year old girl cutting her wrists in her bedroom…
“Were here” a voice cut through my dreams
“Thanks” I mumbled as I paid the driver and made my way groggily out of the car. I looked down at my wrists and saw the white scars still there; I traced my fingers along them before making my way to the club. The Crypt nightclub is a huge shiny black building with a red awning and red door. My black Yamaha R6 Sport was still parked outside the club surprisingly un-smashed and un-keyed, result. I grabbed my helmet from the compartment and shoved it on my head, it hurt like hell, and it felt like my brain was rattling around my skull. I winced and grabbed my keys and started the engine, listening to its roaring purr. I got onto it and floored it down the road all the way to my house, swerving cars and pissing off a lot of drivers, just how I liked to ride. I skidded down my drive and left a long, thick black skid line down the drive.
“Well that’s gonna piss Dad off” I thought
I parked my bike and fished around in my pocket for the house key. As usual it wasn’t there anymore. I rummaged around in the plant pot next to the doorstep and pulled out the filthy spare key.
“Dad I’m home!” I shouted, there was no response. “Dad!”
I run upstairs and knocked on his bedroom door. Still there was no response.
“Ok Dad you better be decent cos’ I’m coming in!” I shouted
I burst through the door to find my Dad no where to be seen. I heard running water in his small en-suite bathroom and opened the door gingerly. There was water leaking all over the floor from the overflowing sink, little trickles of red flowed with the water. I winced and opened the door all the way open. My Dad was slumped over the sink with a razor hanging from his limp hand and blood flowing down his arms onto the floor.
“Shit Dad!” I screamed and pulled him up to check his pulse. There wasn’t one.
“Not you to” I cried cradling him in my arms
I don’t know how long I sat there in the silence and the wet. I didn’t remember ringing the ambulance but they turned up and took him away. Before I knew it I was at my Dad’s funeral, he killed himself on the 14th February 2010. That’s when it hit me, I was an orphan, and I was all alone. After the funeral I ran home and grabbed a rucksack. I began to shove all my clothes and most prized possessions into it, I had to be quick before the social came round to take me away. I was just about to run out the door when I saw the picture on the small table in the hallway. It was Me, Mum and Dad in Turkey one year. It was the first time we had been abroad, Dad had got a Christmas bonus from work and took us away for a week in Turkey. I loved that holiday. I grabbed the photo and shoved it into the top of my bag. I hoisted it onto my back, shoved my keys into the bikes ignition and sped off down the road to who knows where, leaving my life behind me.