Broken Toys

Can a childhood occurrence ruin a person's life forever? What can a simple event do to a damage a child's view on life and people? Eight year-old Elizabeth has a normal childhood until those seven days of March 1994 damage her life forever.


4. Broken Families


Friday 17th March 1994

I hated school now without Catherine. I sat at my desk all by myself, not that any of the other children wanted to sit next to me anyway. I had somehow managed to cut my hand during the accident, possibly by trying to save Catherine. It hurt so much, but that was not the reason that tears were streaming down my face.

The teacher called me up to the front. All eyes were on my tear-stained face but I ignored their whispering and some giggles. I kept my head down and approached the desk with the giggles echoing in my head.


When I got home from the terrible day at school, I walked through the doorway and called out to my daddy. No-one answered so I called again. I heard movement upstairs so I cautiously went up to the sounds coming from the bathroom.

There was a small crack in the door and through it I could see a dark red pool of liquid on the floor. I looked a little closer and realised with horror what it was. Blood.

I pushed the door open wider and met with a sight I would never forget. My daddy was sat in the bath clutching one of our very sharp knives. He had identical cuts on his wrists and when he looked up at me, he had that dead look about his eyes. His eyes were normally shining blue but now the colour dimmed to a cold, dead colour.

He spoke in a raspy whisper and said, "Elizabeth, my daughter. I am so sorry. So very sorry".

He plunged the knife into his stomach.

I screamed at him "DADDY! NO!" My screaming subsided a little to a lonely whisper, "don't leave me..."



"So that's it. I lost my parents and my best friend within the space of a few days."

Danniella looked up, her eyes glistening with tears. I was a little surprised, I didn't think it was that moving. I know I find it upsetting but they were my family, I didn't think someone who had never met them who find it so sad.

I felt a rush of warmth towards her, but it turned cold when she said "what about the ment-"

"Don't." I snapped at her, "never ever say that again."

She looked a little hurt, and I immediately felt guilty. "Are you going to tell me about the... next part?"

I swallowed and looked down again. I had to finish the story, even though this next bit was the horror. My living nightmare of 1994.

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