Chapter 1

    Sara Terrence was born in December, a cold, freezing, month in London. During one of the worst cold snap in London's history. The winter of 1981 had been brutal, being pregnant during that winter had made her mother Layla cruel , who was already short tempered, and waspish, by nature, nearly unapproachable.

     Sara’s Father who had been bursting at the seams with joy over becoming a Father , had been forced out of their lives, by Layla’s increasingly hostile behavior. Finally being told to leave, and to never come back, after Layla had torn open a deep gouge on the side of his head with a well thrown glass rum bottle.

 Michael had been crushed by this. More so because he would never get to watch his daughter grow up, something he had always wanted as he never had love and care from his childhood, this is because he would no longer be with Layla. 

    In truth, he could no longer even say he had once loved her. Her behavior, and increasing hostility towards him having cooled his feelings towards her to complete indifference. But after one last phone call, where he had been spurned after begging to at least be a part of his child’s life, Michael had at last given Layla exactly what she had wanted. Left broken and hurt, he left.

   Sara’s earliest childhood memories were never what you could call happy. She was always walking a precarious line, stuck between striving to earn her mother’s love, and avoiding her ever increasing wrath. 

    Layla, after finally giving birth to what she considered“her worst mistake” had turned to a drug addict alongside her addiction to alcohol which she made an emotional crutch, to replace the men and women, she could never manage to keep around.

    Yes Layla was a bisexual woman and has multiple affair with both genders in the past and in all she failed to keep a successful relationship with any of them.

  Layla would never admit that it was her attitude, and complete lack of respect for anyone other than herself, that drove potential partners away after only brief spurts of initial happiness. Instead, she blamed poor Sara.

    She resented the fact that she so closely resembled her One-time lover , with his soft, wavy, blonde hair, and curious, inquisitive, radiant blue eyes. Even her light olive complexion was a bitter reminder of the man she had cheated with while she had just recently gotten married to Michael, because she felt guilty,hurt and filled of regrets. 

    By the time Sara was seven, her mother had become both her brightest hope, and her darkest fears, all rolled into one. She forever withheld her unconditional love for her, telling her she had done one small thing or another, to deserve to be left just outside the warmth, and love of her mother’s heart. 

    But she was always striving to earn that place, thinking if she just became a better little girl, she might finally be good enough for her. 

The cycle repeated itself endlessly, hope, and desperation, reaching towards her own personal Olympus, only to be tossed away, by some slight, perceived imperfection, banishing her to the depths and darkness of her own, personal perdition.

    By the time Sara was in the second grade, she had already been wired to accept Layla’s temper. Always ready to duck and cover, if her hand so much as twitched towards a belt, or a wooden spoon,a spatula, or in some cases of her worst mistakes, the radio antenna kept next to the couch. 

    Of course the beatings, and casual and consistent violence her mother was so capable of dishing out to her, only served to adhere her to her even more securely, in the off chance she might be graced with her fleeting affection.

    A smile, or a kind word from Layla, was to Sara, like oxygen to a drowning man. And sadly for Sara, her mother knew this, and used it at every advantage she could get.

    Sara’s teachers could see what kind of toll Layla was putting on her, the small marks carefully engraved like a work of art depicted all over her body, and violent flinching, from so much as a raised voice gave testament to the morbidly unhappy home the poor girl was being forced to endure. 

    And yet they were never enough to take direct action. That she was phenomenally intelligent, and actually strove to prove she was worthy of any sort of praise, was not lost on them either. 

    Sadly, it seemed, nothing was ever good enough for Layla. If Sara came home with a silver star on an assignment, then she had failed because it was not a gold star. If it was a gold star, then she had failed because they weren't stamped all over. 

    Her teacher Mrs Peterson was heart broken for the small, innocent little girl. So much so that by the end of school year, she had broken down into tears over the kind of life she was being forced to live, as her husband, held, and rocked her gently, trying to soothe her distress. 

    As at when Sara would turn 8, Michael was hurt and sad that she never got to see his little girl, her first cry, her first steps were taken in his absence and even the first day of school,all the moments he ever craved.

    It was then, he decided to atleast get His little girl a gift for her upcoming birthday and since he possibly could not see Sara, he approached Layla's brother which was Sara's only known relative Uncle Johnny.

    He gave to her a little box containing a small lovable puppy and pleaded he at least gift it to his daughter on his behalf and while uncle Johnny initially disagreed but on the thought of how badly his sister had been treating little Sara he eventually agreed ,at least Sara had a parent who was willing to bring a little light to her life.

    It was December 18th for the 8th time again and just like every other miserable day Sara woke up and for a fact forgetting it was her birthday.The door bell rang and Sara had opened the door on seeing Uncle Johnny her face which had previously been sunken in a deep frown was suddenly lightened up and she gave a little smile saying Uncle Johnny and the thunderous voice of Layla came saying...

    'Sara get the fuck away from that door I do not want visitors' and she threw a bottle towards the door, seeing the emotional wreckage his sister was piling onto little Sara as he normally addressed her, Johnny gave the box to Sara and mouthed the words 'Happy Birthday' and thus Sara's heart became filled with so much joy .

    She opened the box and in there a beautiful, dark fawn, pit bull puppy that she instantly named Rubble, after her favorite Saturday morning cartoon character. Sara was over the moon about her new dog! She honestly couldn’t believe someone thought she was worthy of a gift of this magnitude. Unfortunately, Layla wasn't much of the same mind.

    “What the fuck were you thinking?” she had screamed at her brother, her eyes flashing with undisguised fury, as she slammed her fist down onto the table. “That little thing" doesn’t need a dog! She’s already enough trouble as it is!”

    Johnny was shocked at the venom in his sister’s voice as she railed at him over giving her daughter a puppy. 

    “Layla” he stated as calmly as he could “Every boy needs a dog. We had one growing up, and I know you loved her as much as I did.” Johnny explained, hoping the memory of their beagle Ruby would calm her down.

  “And just look at them out there. They’re having the time of their lives!” he pointed out the window of the small trailer Layla and Sara called home. In the yard Sara, and Rubble were rolling in the grass, the puppy jumping and pawing the small girl as Sara laughed. Sadly, Johnny thought, it was one of the few times he could remember hearing Sara laugh.

    “Yeah, it’s fine for you to say a**hole!” Layla hissed. “You’re not the one who’s gonna be cleaning piles of shit off the carpet for the next six months! That little barking shit machine is going to destroy my house, and make more work for me, than I already have, trying to keep up with that little thing(Sara) out there.”

    Johnny had finally had enough of his sister’s shit. And he stood up quickly in front of her, reaching his full height of nearly six foot four, completely dwarfing Layla’s five foot one and glared down at her. 

    “That is the last time you will ever call your daughter a bastard in front of me!” he growled. His eyes darkening as he clenched his fists. “Do you hear me you self-absorbed little b*tch?.

    If I ever so much as think you’ve done it again, I will break you over my knee, like you’re trying to break that little girl out there!” His emotions were plainly written across his face as he slowly backed his sister into the corner of the kitchen. “Do you understand me Layla? You made your life the mess it is now, and Sara had nothing to do with it. If I ever catch you trying to hurt that little girl again, I will make your life a misery the likes of which a horror movie couldn’t compare to!” And with that last warning to Layla, Johnny turned and stomped out of her home.