What Lies Ahead.

A story I started out of pure boredom, blossomed into somethng more!

After a tragic death of a loved one - Ally is left broken. But there is something out their that can make her whole again. But who or what can do this?

Better do it quick because Ally's life is in great danger, and all at the hands of her father; who hides a secret that is just waiting to be discovered by the people it concerns most. What is this secret? And what does this mean for Ally and her true love - Hunter?


2. Chapter 1 – Nothing’s changed


8 weeks later...

Moving can be stressful. But moving away is what’s best for mine and my father’s almost inhospitable relationship. After mum died a couple of months back it became difficult for both of us living in a house full of so many of the happy family memories that we all shared and all the confliction this dragged out of us. I had already lost my mother; i didn’t want to lose my father too. The only reason I had humoured my father on the matter was in hopes that we could rekindle our dire relationship, even if it meant losing my mother entirely. I had concluded this after many a battle. It always ended the same – one would lose all energy and will, backing out until the next occurrence. A continuous cycle that was never going to see an end. I had to do something about it or we would both be consumed with absolute hate.

My father howled at me “It’s time to leave, to start a new life. Come on get in the car!” he sounded subdued but angry this rather violent outburst from my father broke me from my resolve, not to mention made me jump out of my skin. He scared me, he had been so overtly angry after my mum’s death; angry at me and angry at the world, and this anger never seemed to weaken or subside. Not even by a fraction. He had turned violent; it was present in his tone of voice, his nature and his actions. I had never seen him like this before. Driven by grief.

Although he frightened me he was right us needing to leave, so I took one last mournful sweep around the empty room with my suddenly tear-filled eyes and set out to obey my father’s wishes. This was it. And it hurt so much, more than i would have ever expected. It wasn’t a last minute decision either, I knew this time was coming, as  it had been carefully planned; first we had put the house up for sale, my father arranged a transfer for his job , I was enrolled in a new school in a new town ready for me to start there when we arrived, my father had got other personal (too personal for me to know about, showing how much he truly valued me) matters dealt with and the most heartbreaking of all was getting rid of mum’s things. I remember the night my father did this; it was like a living nightmare to add to all the others I had already witnessed.


As I lay in bed that night, awoken by my nightmare; a recollection of the soul-shattering accident I heard my father stumbling around accompanied by loud crashes and bangs. What was going on? I had thought. I sought to find this out and I myself stumbled down the blank hallway until reaching the door where my father was situated inside. Tweaking the crack in the door to a wider degree I peeked through and there in front of my eyes was my father – a broken man.

Sat on the bed with his eyes intently set on a drawing he had constructed of my mother when they were young, this pose was held for only seconds before he bounded of the bed and briskly thumped the nearest wall with his fragile hand. Reeling from this, his tattered knuckles came into view and blood swelled, then oozed through every tear in his brutalised skin. This appeared to register no pain in his eyes and if it did it was well hidden. Shockingly quick his hands moved in corresponding movements to tear my mother’s image savagely in two. I questioned why?

Browsing the room that they had once shared; I was inconsolable at the sight of her clothed torn and shredded - scattered wildly on the floor. Her familiar perfume that she had favoured for years was smashed into a million pieces, seeping out into the carpet – growing and expanding in size. Literally, everything she had ever beheld dear was obliterated and i couldn’t help but lash out at my father.

The vulgar works spewed from my unsuspecting mouth, “You bastard! What have you done? What have you done? What – what have you done?” by then I was in sobs of tears. I catapulted into his chest, thumping him and hitting him with as much power as I could acquire again and again until i had nothing left.

As I silently left the room my father remarked as if it burned his mouth “You’re just like her!” he practically spat the words at my weeping body. I was done fighting. And said nothing.

I retreated back to my room, whimpering and weeping producing an endless stream of tears that refused to be stopped. And they didn’t. At least not during that haunting night.


A two and a half hour car journey later, my father had pulled up outside our new home and it was just a simple relief to have the ability to physically and mentally remove myself from the downright intolerable situation. At this point I welcomed the vast space to allow distance between myself and my hostile father: for that and that reason alone.

When I set eyes on what lay ahead, there was no denying that it was a beautiful house but it wasn’t my home and there was no denying that either. As I walked throughout the house, certian features loomed out at me; for one the intricately carved fire place – Truly beautiful as well as the grandeur stair case made solely of exquisite oak wood that looked liked it had been conjured from a turn of the 19th century novel like ‘Pride and prejudice’.

Throughout the next week I was left in solitude to roam freely around the house as I pleased while my father had immediately embraced his work transfer. Luckily, I requested a few days to get accustomed to my house, the town and the neighbours; all completely new and the school had complied with my wishes with the certainty that I would start the following week. This suited me perfectly. And during the free time I had discovered a treasure trove of hidden places, secret entrances; such as the attic – for some apparent and unknown reason the attic had been completely closed off however the ever-so-reliable hidden staircase provided a rather simple entrance, this was unexpected. Along with others such as a secret hallway within the walls which led to the back room on the basement level; this had been locked since our arrival.


Mostly, what I had found in there was basically lots of dust and white cloths, and under all of this was a bunch of magnificent antique furniture pieces. It baffled me why these were left behind? I spent hour’s just strolling round dusting as I went, admiring every piece. But the attic was a whole different story as I had discovered on the Sunday, unfortunately though I had little time to explore before my father’s early finish came around – this meant that I only caught a glimpse but from what I had seen, it was something big – huge even. A family history mapped out with portraits, family trees and diary after diary after diary, just casually scattered wildly around the room; on the walls, on the floor, on the multiple dust ridden desks and even the ceiling. As the time vanished I decided to revisit the momentous site and pledging to restore the mystical place to its former glory, or at least a place of relative order. But it was something that would have to wait – the dreaded first day was fast approaching, the next day. 12 hours. 4 hours. 2 hours.


First day...

A torturous night, of insomnia had obliterated the concept of sleep, but at least this had kept away the chilling nightmare. When it hit the two hour mark I had to physically strain to pry myself out of bed. I staggered to the bathroom and had a quick shower. I stepped out feeling refreshed and more energetic but still lacking luster. As I submerged down the staircase that still continued to fascinate me, the smell of coffee radiated throughout the entirety of the downstairs and the radio breakfast show echoed profoundly off the extremely high ceiling and tall walls. The smell of bacon wafted my way and as soon as it hit my senses my stomach felt like it propelled itself around in a circle, my gut wrenched in preparation for what was about to come. But luckily it didn’t to the greatest relief – Nerves!

Conversation was a light and basic chorus of “Good morning” along with a pleasant inquiry from my father “Coffees brewing and there’s bacon sandwiches, if you want one?” My father inquired.

“God no! But coffee would be great though!” I replied rather lazily.

 The next 30 minutes until my father vacated the house to leave for work was total silence except the local radio breakfast show and the Morning news on the reception room TV. Listening intently to them both selectively while drinking my second mug of coffee was all i could fathom doing.

Until, the radio announced the time “...It’s currently 7am and you’re listening to Sunnydale local breakfast show!”

“Shit” I exclaimed sarcastically “I’m going to have to rush, great!”

The next hour went by in a blur and an hour later, I was fumbling out the door with a feeling of chaos racking my brain, not something you want to have on your first day at a new school. I ran to the car and speedily drove most of the way in a nerve-wrecking silence that threatened to consume me. But Bad luck had struck again, as a mangled line of traffic lay ahead.

“For Christ’s sake! This can’t be happening on my first day. It can’t.” I had reached the point of pure desperation that I had begun talking to myself. STOP!

10 minutes later after a lot of waiting in traffic it finally began to move, to my relief.

The period between traffic up until entering the school remained a blank blur I had failed to keep up with.



As I walloped through the main entrance and hurtled round corner after corner with “Hurry up! Hurry up! Run faster!” chanting in my head as I aimlessly ran until I spotted the classroom that I so desperately sought out. Braving the wilderness is how i would have put it.  And I ran in tripped – painfully slamming into some boy’s wooden desk with such force that his papers and pens scattered all over the floor. “Great!” I murmured to myself.

All eyes were on me and the feeling of utter scruitanisation rang through every inch of my skin bringing the searing blood rushing to my cheeks, flaring bright crimson red and determined to burst through every pore of my face.

‘Walk to a seat’ instructed my mind motivating me to move. As I slowly and carefully moved to take a seat, I realised that I had just thrown some unsuspecting boy’s things all over the floor, so crouched to the floor to retrieve his scattered possessions. In that moment I was joined by other hands grasping for pens and scrap pieces of paper. After collecting the items up I looked toward the face that withheld the other set of hands and those soulful eyes bore into mine. The memory of that looming beast from my past flooded back to my fragile mind in a breathtaking wave and i rose with such force my body threatened to propel into the air and the pile of things that I had recover hit the desk with a loud thud, that left the whole desk trembling. At that moment tears desperate to erupt from my aching eyes, erupted like lava from a volcano that left devastating destruction in its wake.

As I ran down the corridor to seek refuge, I heard the shouts of a teacher calling me to them but I just keep running and running and running and I never wanted to stop.

The tears made this difficult, making my vision so murky I failed to see any obstacle in my path. My body reluctantly gave in to my mind’s desires and I collapsed to the ground wishing to be anywhere but where I was. I didn’t even want to dwell on the mind -numbing encounter of those looming eyes because I knew with this it would bring other muddled pieces of the memory from that fateful day along with it. And I couldn’t face that ever again. EVER.




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