Mother's Box Of Revenge

Theresa Wellwood's mother left her and her brother Oliver when she was 12 with nothing but instructions not to open the chest she was given until she was 15. Three years later she has held out on the promise. When she opens the chest........ does she really want to find out what message her mother left that was so important that she had to leave them in the care of the state? And when she finds the message....... how will she cope with her new-found knowledge?


1. 2009-The beginning of an end

Shouting. Banging. Crying. My fragile ears recognised these sounds with woe.

"Come on Joe! We haven't time for that bloody chest! Let the kid find it herself! Come on! Say your goodbyes already! They're going to catch us if we don't leave now!" Another sound. My step-dad, I realised.

On the edge of sleep, I only recognised that something bad was happening. My gut feeling also told me this.

"Josephine!" My step-dad Roger yelled again.

"Got it!" My Mum sobbed back.


Thump, thump, thump. They were making there way upstairs now. My door creaked.

"Tess? Are you awake?" My Mum whispered hoarsely.

"Yeah," I whispered back.

She tiptoed in my room and I felt Mums weight next to my head on the bed.

"Listen and listen carefully. I don't have time to be repeating myself. Understand?" Mum whispered.

I nodded.

"Right then. Me and Roger have to go away now. Some bad people are after us. As soon as I leave I need you to contact the police and tell them we've been kidnapped."


I stared disbelievingly. When I saw in her cool grey eyes she was serious, I shook my head, A feeble protest.

"Come on Theresa! Do it for me! I'm leaving you a chest that you cant open until you're 15, it will explain everything."

I shook my head again, more determinedly, tears dribbling out of my eyes.

"Oh Tessie!" she sobbed pulling me into a determined hug. I felt hurt, betrayed and still confused. How could she do this to us? It was wrong, wrong, wrong. Yet in a way, my gut was telling me this was right, this was how fate wanted it.


After about a minuet of crying hysterically, Roger yelled "JOSEPHINE! I'M TELLING YOU NOW! LEAVE THE KID TO IT OR THEY'LL CATCH US!"

"Take care of Ollie for me!" Mum sobbed and she left the room.


As I stared after her willowy figure, I couldn't have known that in the next hour, there would be police, a crying five year old brother, strange social workers asking about my "treasure chest." I wouldn't let them near and a strange car. Nor that, in the next few years, my life would be a hell of failed care and foster homes. That threatened residential would be the worst threat ever. That I would finally settle with my brother in this wonderful care-home where I'd meet my new best friend James. That, that, oh my life would be one giant mess. But, as Mother left, I knew one thing. The chest that I wouldn't open until I was fifteen.

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