BooksBarbecue
Back When I Lost You
Chapters (81)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-one
  26. Twenty-two
  27. Twenty-three
  28. Twenty-four
  29. Twenty-five
  30. Twenty-six
  31. Twenty-seven
  32. Twenty-eight
  33. Twenty-nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-one
  36. Thirty-two
  37. Thirty-three
  38. Thirty-four
  39. Thirty-five
  40. Thirty-six
  41. Thirty-seven
  42. Thirty-eight
  43. Thirty-nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-one
  46. Forty-two
  47. Forty-three
  48. Forty-four
  49. Forty-five
  50. Forty-six
  51. Forty-seven
  52. Forty-eight
  53. Forty-nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-one
  56. Fifty-two
  57. Fifty-three
  58. Fifty-four
  59. Fifty-five
  60. Fifty-six
  61. Fifty-seven
  62. Fifty-eight
  63. Fifty-nine
  64. Sixty
  65. Sixty-one
  66. Sixty-two
  67. Sixty-three
  68. Sixty-four
  69. Sixty-five
  70. Sixty-six
  71. Sixty-seven
  72. Epilogue
  73. Acknowledgments
  74. Read More
  75. Prologue
  76. One
  77. Two
  78. Three
  79. Four
  80. Follow Merilyn online
  81. Dedication

The landing outside my room is wide and long. My bedroom at home would probably fit in about half of it. The carpet is green with black and gold swirls that make me dizzy. The banister to my left is dark and solid, so I grip it and run my hand across the smoothness of the wood.

I can hear shouts from below – both children and adults – but it’s not the general hubbub of family life, rather the pent-up energy and anger you get from a load of damaged kids being left with underpaid adults to care for them.

A girl rushes past me, pushing me aside in her dash for the stairs.

‘Stupid,’ she calls back to me. She can’t be more than eight. I watch her unruly blonde hair streak out behind her as she skips down the stairs before hearing a shout from behind me.

‘Come here, you little shit.’ A woman, probably late twenties, runs out from the girl’s room and follows her down the stairs. Glancing back, she gives me a look of frustration.

‘Get downstairs, won’t you? Dinner’s up.’

I have never been less hungry, but the look in her eye propels me to the stairs and down them. When I reach the bottom she’s disappeared and I’m left wondering where it is I’m supposed to go now. The panic I felt earlier returns and I want my mum. At fifteen I know that’s not cool, but it’s also not cool to be taken from her at four in the afternoon with not so much as a reason why.

Well. The reason why is also the reason my arm is in plaster, but that wasn’t Mum’s fault, and now I’m getting angry and want to go back to my room and scream into the pillow for her to come and get me. But before I can, the front door opens and a girl my age is dragged in.

‘Get off me, get your bloody hands off me.’ Her arms are everywhere and bright red hair covers her face like a blanket. Three staff members are trying to hold her but she squirms and wriggles like a newly caught fish.

I run up the stairs two at a time and crouch behind the banister. I hold my breath. I’ve never seen a girl fight with adults before, and certainly not one who looks like she might win. There is an energy in her so strong it seems to reach up and touch me: anger, hate, fear. All the things I feel but magnified five hundred times until they have a power of their own.

Two staff members have her on the floor now while the other tries to talk to her.

‘Come on, it’s going to be OK, just take some breaths, OK?’