by admin | Mar 30, 2016 | blog, Depressed, Hope, Life, Love, Poison, sliders, Suicide, Uncategorized
The next instalment of U Murder U (Suicide) below – Chapter 4 CHAPTER 4 They worked together side by side. Flour scattered on top of the kitchen counter, chocolate chips, chocolate chunks and sugar scattered alongside the flour. Elle mixed the muffin batter and hummed a song her mother had written a few years ago and Clarissa sung the words. Elle tossed a couple of chocolate pieces into her mouth and fed her mother a piece. Clarissa smiled as the chocolate melted in her mouth. “The cookies smell really good; I love the smell of baking cookies.” “You love the smell of baking full-stop Elle.” Elle smiled, “That is so true. How many muffins are we making?” “Twelve, which should give us four each, unless someone I know decides to sneak more than her fair share.” “Who would do that?” “Oh, I don’t know, who do you think would do that Elle May? Who has a tendency of doing that Elle May?” Elle smiled sheepishly at her mother. She loved making muffins and cakes and bread and savoury dishes (containing secret ingredients) with her mother, it was one of her favourite things to do. It filled her with anticipation of something exciting. Her mother would tell her to close her eyes when she made a pie or casserole and while Elle’s eyes were closed she would add some secret herb or spice. Elle never knew what she added only that afterwards the dish would smell and taste like something out of this world. Elle carefully spooned the muffin batter into the twelve muffin cases then licked the...
by admin | Mar 6, 2016 | blog, Depressed, Hope, Life, Love, Poison, Suicide, Uncategorized
CHAPTER 1 Battersea, London Un-suppressed, volatile, typical-teenage anger bubbled deep within Elle’s chest as she watched her mother get ready for her date. How her mother could bear to be in the same room as the philanderer baffled her (recently, due to peer pressure, Elle often referred to him as the dick-head-led man, or D-H-L man, rarely as her father). Her mother applied some more blush to her cheeks and then applied some lip gloss to her lips and puckered them together. Next she ran a hand through her auburn hair and scrutinised her appearance in the mirror. Clarissa saw the scowl on her daughter’s face and took a deep breath, smiled then turned to her. “Elle May Williams, why are you frowning like that, you’re going to get wrinkles before you turn fourteen at this rate.” Perplexed and unable to comprehend why her mother was doing what she was doing, she jumped up and bumbled, “Why? Tell me . . . I don’t understand Mum . . . why?” “Why what, sweetheart?” Clarissa calmly asked, eyebrows arched. “Why are you going to dinner with him? He cheated on you so many times, he left you-” “Correction sweetheart, I asked him to leave.” “You went through weeks of depression when you found out what he’d done. Please don’t let him take you there again. The last time you went to dinner with him you came back and you were so hurt and upset.” “That was a while ago, I’m stronger now.” “Yes, but he hasn’t changed Mum, he’s still the same.” “He’s your father, Elle, I’m just trying...
by admin | Mar 5, 2016 | blog, Depressed, Hope, Life, Love, Poison, Suicide, Uncategorized
U Murder U (Suicide) can be obtained in a black or red cover at www.gllpublishing.com PROLOGUE Chicago, Several Years Ago Her days and her nights had become one. Nothing pleased her, nothing made her happy anymore. She hated the way she felt and hated even more the way her husband and the doctors tippy-toed around her, talking to her like she was a five year old while expecting her to act like a mother and wife. She tried to tell the doctors that her poor appetite, her inability to shut down at night and sleep like a normal person and her constant feeling of low self-esteem were not right and meant that something wasn’t right, not that she was merely depressed. She tried to tell her husband that the fact that she was always tired, moody and wasn’t turned on sexually by him anymore since she had the baby meant that something wasn’t right and not that she was just depressed. No one listened to her and since her baby was four years old they all dispelled the thought that she had ‘baby-blues’. In the past four years she had seen three physicians and five psychiatric doctors and the only thing they all seemed to agree on was that she was showing signs of depression caused by something they couldn’t identify. They took her husband’s money and in exchange gave her drugs to take (uppers and downers) which were supposed to make her feel better but often left her feeling like she was stranded on a desert island, terrified of the water around her and allergic to the sand beneath...
