I stayed in my room for the rest of the day and the whole of the following one. Mother didn’t call me down to eat, so I stayed where I was, leaving my room only to go to the toilet or sip water from the sink tap. I tried to focus on reading The Secret Garden but I kept reading the same line over and over again, unable to stop myself reliving Mother’s punishment and words. She’d been about to say something then stopped herself. It had been something about what she’d need to do to me if I didn’t start to be her perfect little doll again. A perfect little doll I knew I could never be, not now I knew the truth.

I felt I knew what she’d been about to say and the knowledge was terrifying – more terrifying than staying in the cottage for the rest of my life and never getting the chance to meet my real parents.

I could have been wrong, but something had woken up inside me. It was like a sixth sense had bloomed in my brain, and this new sense told me she was even crazier than I realized, and that she was getting worse.

I listened intently. The house was quiet. She was out again.

Trembling all over, I wrote a list, starting with the day Mother scraped my scalp.

Horrible Things She’s Done

1. Scraped my head brushing my hair

2. Made me think I was dying when I started my period

3. Tore off my dress

4. Forced me into the light

5. Slapped me

6. Told me the light was melting my organs

7. Stopped giving me food

8. Terrified me with Deadly

9. Threatened to lock me in the under-stair cupboard with Deadly

I licked my lips and re-read the list; my senses sharp now, despite the gnawing hunger.

She was getting worse. Much worse. She was losing control. I was in danger. Emma was in danger.

Certainty thrummed in my chest and my palms began to sweat. I thought about the dolls hanging in Mother’s wardrobe and my heart wrenched.

I didn’t deserve a life like this.

I shuddered and pushed myself away from the desk.

I couldn’t stay here any more. Emma couldn’t stay here any more. If we stayed here, we would probably die.

I dragged myself up and put an ear to the door. I listened as Mother brushed her teeth. Listened as she padded across the landing and closed her bedroom door.

I was starving and couldn’t think on an empty stomach. I crept downstairs, made myself some toast and ate a chunk of cheese. As I ate, my eyes strayed to the huge, wickedly sharp chopping knife on the kitchen counter. My stomach tensed.

I could not, would not attack her.