(via accioron)

(via accioron)

Anonymous asked: You are so brave! ..You don't know who i am but we have spoke before and we had a disagreement about something:/ but i admire you for your bravery! I just wish i could be less of a wimp and man the fuck up instead of being stupid:/ but im changing for the record, it will all get better even if time can't heal some things:/ you deserve to be happy, you're beautiful! <3<3

im really not very brave :L i dont see why you should have to hide your identity from me, dont be scared :( you can talk to me about something if its troubling you? i have plenty of advise i can give you that ive learned from my own mistakes and that advice is just gathering dust in the dark :L:L thanks, i am happy sometimes, i just takes a bit of pushing to get it out of me == i dont think im quite beautiful yet, but maybe one day :) drop me a mail on facebook if you wanna chat? <3

Anonymous asked: IM me on Yahoo Msngr it's important. my username is bakermyriemm121326

i hope you realise i dont have yahoo

Anonymous asked: last summer the guy you wrote about constantly tried it on with me when i split with my boyfriend. we were friends but he text me alot & wanted me to meet with him. when i said no he said 'i can't do that to my girfriend anyway' then told my friends that it was all me, & made me feel to blame.. i'm telling you this because a) i know you'll understand & b) i don't want you to ever feel like it was your fault, it's not. he's to blame & if you think you know who i am feel free to talk to me:)xx

im so sorry i got this so late D: i think i know who you are and yeah i think a chat sometime would be good, im still not over it and everyone i try to talk to about it doesnt really understand how it makes me feel so just kinda try not to say too much which frustrates me <3

I hope you realise that I’ve been putting off writing this for a while, staring at a blank word document while trying to think of the words that mean what I feel, I guess they’re coming to me as I go.
                I don’t know how many people know exactly what went on, I guess a lot of people have an idea, I doubt it’s the right one though… If you’re reading this then you’re probably already pissed off with me and wanting me to get on with it. I’ll try my best, okay?
                I first told someone on the 15^th of May this year, it was my best friend I told, we were talking about how much a shitty friend he was to us and then I just came out with it because I was sick of keeping everything a secret all the time. I don’t really know how but then we told my boyfriend, I think she told him and I explained everything else, it’s a bit hazy as to how he knew but I was sure that he deserved to know as soon as possible. I’m not really very good at writing this kinda stuff, I’ve never done it before but I think it’s something I need to do and I guess I should just cut to the chase now and then fill in other things later.
                He was my best friend ever since we were about 11 I guess, we’d always been really close like we’d hold hands and think nothing of it, it was just having someone there really, it wasn’t a big deal because we knew that. Atleast that’s what I thought, I realise now he probably was thinking different things. I don’t know when exactly but somepoint down the line things started to change between me and him, he’d hold our hugs a little longer than normal which made me feel kinda uncomfortable but I didn’t say anything or he’d comment on my appearance saying that I looked “hot” or “sexy” and he’d always have an opinion on my love life and say how he didn’t think my current sweetheart were good enough for me; even when later on he got himself a girlfriend.
                Again, I don’t know when but things changed even more at some point. He’d touch my bum and comment on how nice he found it or talk about other girls as if they were just objects and tell me what he’d do with them if he could… as a fairly feminist kinda girl this made me slightly offended but again I didn’t tell him that I was feeling uncomfortable because he was my friend, I trusted him right? Within the past 6 months or so of friendship, maybe more, things got as bad as they ever would before I managed to get out. I can’t remember the first time it happened or how it happened but somehow he’d get into the habit of asking to touch my boobs and i guess play around with them or something. I can remember several incidences with pretty good detail but it happened way more than the times I remember, I couldn’t say how many
.               The first I remember. Half term, I was single and pretty down about it. We attended a small get together at a friend’s house, just 4 of us with some drinks. I suppose I got pretty drunk, lets call it “fun drunk” for the sake of giving you an idea. We played spin the bottle which I was pretty excited about to be honest because it meant being able to get with the other guy invited to this get together who I must admit I found pretty attractive at the time, I did get with him that night if you’re interested, we stayed up all night just chatting about shit. (I just realised things might be difficult to follow with this whole no name thing… for this sake, lets just call the main guy i’m chatting about “Ralph”). Inevitably the bottle span for me and Ralph, as soon as he looked at me in that way, I knew it was going to be another one of “those times”. Don’t get me wrong, he was lovely at other times but even then he’d be a little bit too involved with my social life, telling me off and lecturing me about who I hung round with or what I told people. I don’t remember what led up to the moment when it happened but suddenly he was taking me up the stairs and he pushed me against the wall, not in an aggressive way more a “trying to be sexy” way and I just stood there really not knowing what to do. Then he kissed me on my mouth, opening my lips with his and kissing me, I kissed him back for a second or two because I was drunk and had been alone for so long but I know that’s no excuse. I didn’t really know exactly what I was doing but it clicked and I pushed him off me, he tried to kiss me again but I pushed him away again. By then I was angry, telling him to stop being selfish because he had a beautiful girlfriend who didn’t deserve this, he had someone to love and go to whenever he was upset or feeling alone but I didn’t have that, I didn’t have anybody. I kept telling him this, raising my voice to make him listen but he just seemed to ignore me. He kissed my neck, trying to get me to come round but it wasn’t working. I didn’t know what to do, I just stood there waiting for it to be over, I think I must have thought I was being a good friend then, letting him do what made him happy even if it didn’t make me feel happy. I know now that I was wrong there. He told me to lift up my top so he could see my boobs, I told him no but then he just lifted up my top and bra anyway, for a bit he just kinda took them in his hands and squeezed them. I think I tried to push him away but he was stronger than me so it was pretty much useless trying. He started using his mouth, kissing my boobs, licking them or sucking on my nipples. I can’t begin to tell you how disgusted I felt when he did this, how it still makes me feel sick. I just stood completely still and started at the blank wall straight ahead of me, telling myself he’d be satisfied soon. When he stopped and we rejoined the other two guys downstairs he just acted like nothing happened, I went along with that act for some fucked up reason. That was the first time I remember.
                Second time I remember. Work experience week. I had a boyfriend of a few weeks, one of Ralph’s bandmates and best friends. To stop later confusion let’s call my boyfriend Ewan. Me and Ralph were working together at his old school for the week, one of the days “after work” we decided to go back his for a chat and just casual friendly get together. I think he had other ideas. He showed me his drumkit in his room which was pretty huge but then I got tired so decided to lay down on his bed, he lay next to me and started cuddling me. I thought this was weird because I had a boyfriend now, surely things would change and he wouldn’t want these things to happen anymore? But I didn’t want to make him think I was acting weird or different for some reason so I didn’t stop him. He took me to his mum’s room and then stood me infront of her full length mirror where he hugged me from behind and just looked at our reflection together for a while, I thought this was also weird so avoided his reflection’s eye contact as much as I could. I remember him pushing me down onto his mum’s bed and getting ontop of me as if people would if they were going to have sex, I told him to get off but kept my voice light and jokey so he wouldn’t think something ws up with me. I told him I wanted to go downstairs now, I though downstairs would be “safer” or something, that he wouldn’t be like this in a more open place. We got to the hallway and he stood infront of me, blocking my access to the stairs telling me I could go downstairs for “one booby touch” i told him that was ridiculous and that I just wanted to go down the stairs for fucks sake. He didn’t accept that and kept going on about making this frankly sick deal to let me go downstairs.  He touched me anyway, the same thing as before but he didn’t keep trying to kiss me this time.  Sometime after that his parents came home and he told me to hide, I didn’t understand why because I’d met his parents and was particularly friendly with his mum, I miss his mum but she probably hates me now because of whatever he’s told her to save himself. So he put me in his bed and put his duvet over the top of me so I was hidden. That’s when my earring fell out. He made some plot to get me out, I had to sneak past the kitchen or something where his dad was and go out the back door, I was sceptical at first worried that I’d get caught and have to explain why I was there, I couldn’t help hating Ralph a little bit then, why did he have to lie to his parents and say I wasn’t there? Nonetheless, I got out after a close shave with his dad and walked home. The next day before “work” Ralph came up to me with my missing earring, he told me that his girlfriend found it in his bed last night and asked who it belonged to, he told her it was his mum’s. That’s when I realised how much lying he must do to everyone just to cover things up. I think that’s when I realised I didn’t want a friend like that anymore.
                Third time I remember. The last time. Sometime after school, we were outside on his patio having a talk about things. I told him about my worries regarding the fact me and my boyfriend hadn’t had sex and I thought he was nervous about it, I asked Ralph if he would talk to Ewan about things as a good friend would. He started lecturing me about being a slag and stuff bringing up past relationships and how they turned out, all the time he was doing this I just wanted him to shut up because he was acting like he knew everything about it all. He didn’t. I just wanted him to shut up and be a nice person again, I remember getting really angry with him and I told him that he needs to stop telling me what to do and let me get a word in edgeways but I don’t understand why I had to explain myself to him, it doesn’t make sense to me.  So I asked him to talk to Ewan, he said he would if he could have a “booby touch” I told him that’s ridiculous and not how a friend would act. He took us into his garage and locked the door “incase someone saw” but stood in between me and the door at all times, I felt trapped. I told him to just forget about talking to Ewan, it wasn’t worth it, he should either do it for a friend or I’ll live without it. Simple. Then he started to make me feel guilty, he always did this and I don’t know how he would but he would just make me feel like I was a bad friend, like I was making a huge deal out of nothing, like I should just do it because it didn’t mean anything… we were just friends, right? He told me he’d time it, he wanted one minute “with my boobs” then he’d talk to Ewan. I told him to talk to Ewan first because I knew he was a liar. I feel sick to think about this but I told him to bring the time down. I told him that I’d give him 10 seconds. I told him 10 seconds was okay. I hate myself for that. I don’t know how, but he got it up to 30 seconds and the next thing I know he put his watch on the freezer beside us and lifted up my top. I stood there for 30 seconds, completely still. It lasted an eternity, while he sucked and kissed and fondled my breasts, I just stared at that second hand, hoping with everything that it would go quicker but it just didn’t. Finally it reached the twelve. I grabbed his head and pushed him away but he came back, he wanted more. I told him to fuck off, he had his time and a deal was a deal. He told me to close my eyes, I asked why because I really wasn’t in the mood for shitty games. Again somehow he got round me and I closed my eyes. I felt his lips on mine. I was so angry at that point, how fucking dare he do that when my boyfriend is his best friend and he had such a beautiful girlfriend that he’s been with for over a year. I pushed him off. He told me that he thought I was starting to enjoy that 30 seconds and I told him firmly that I didn’t. I wanted to tell him that I hated it, that it made me feel sick, it made me feel like a cheap prostitute. That’s what they do, exchange their services for goods.  I felt so low and used, it was crushing. I got angry with him, told him I wanted to go now, I was done and I wanted to go home where things were safe, he convinced me to sit outside with him and we’d chat. I reluctantly agreed “keep him sweet, that’ll be the last time just aslong as you’re nice to him” that’s what I was thinking the whole time we sat outside. I don’t remember being very talkative but eventually I left.
                This whole thing “ended” in May. It’s coming up to September but it doesn’t feel over yet. I doubt it ever will. I saw Ralph today on his bike, he rode past me and I was so tempted to kick the bike into the road or shout at him, just anything to hurt him as much as he’s hurt me. Instead I just put on a brave face and looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. His girlfriend has spoken to me about these things a few times, she heard from him that I threw myself at him once when we were drunk, acting like it was the only time. I told her the truth about that time and that there were others and I’d tell her if she wanted to know. I listened to her break into tears over everything I told her while I just sat down completely emotionless, just drained of everything. I can’t feel anymore when it comes to these things, it hurts too much so I guess I just stopped. Ewan says he still loves me, that it wasn’t my fault and he’s disgusted with Ralph but they’re still in a band together, Ralph still acts like nothing’s happened, like everything is fine. I want Ralph to know how I feel, how I felt, I want him to realise what he’s done. I still blame myself but I’m starting to realise that he was wrong, although I could have done something to stop it. I could have said no in a more strong way. He told me each time that it would be the last time and that I should slap him if he tried anything again but I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that. I just didn’t have the strength. Everytime he saw me he’d “check up on me” like asking me if I’d told anyone because he said everything would be ruined if people found out. A lot of people know but nothing’s changed for him, people still think he’s amazing and a “legend” they don’t know him like I do though. The worst thing is that he did this to his girlfriend, she didn’t deserve it at all, she’s so beautiful and friendly and lovely to everyone, I hate that it happened to her. Especially as she’s really self conscious about her own boobs, which makes everything worse but they’re still together and I’ll never understand that. She told me during one of our phonecalls that she would ask Ralph about everything and if he lied to her that it would be over, I don’t know how that turned out because they’re still together, she still loves him. I don’t understand how she can. I don’t understand how anyone can.
                I hate him. I’m sorry if you had to read this all, but you’re finally at the end. I just needed the truth to come out. Thanks for reading I guess.

The room was black for a while, but that was alright, I was used to the dark. I shut my eyes for a moment or two, singing in my mind. Although I didn’t sing out loud I allowed my mouth to make the shapes of the lyrics, I savoured each syllable.

“He’s a real nowhere man, sitting in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody.” I whispered the last line, it echoed slightly in the room. I opened my eyes, it was still black but suddenly I heard the click of a switch and the lights slowly flickered on.

  I finally saw the room for what it was; grubby. I was sat on a plastic chair. Before me was a table with a black cassette recorder on the left, beyond the table was a wall, the wall had a huge mirror built into it. I shuddered as I saw my face. I was plain; short reddish brownish hair, brown eyes and pale skin. I was just like everyone else, I blended into the background. I wasn’t special at all; the girl in the mirror was just an empty shell, she wasn’t the real Eleanor. No-body knew the real Eleanor. I looked down in disgust, suddenly the door opened, it hit the wall with a loud bang, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as a tall man entered and sat on the chair opposite me. I didn’t look up, just kept miming lyrics slowly. I heard a long, tired sigh. I was overwhelmed with the stench of whiskey from his breath, but still I didn’t stir. The songs in my mind became louder, faster and stronger. I closed my eyes again, immersed in the music. Before I knew it, I found myself screaming at the top of my lungs: “NEVER COULD BE ANY OTHER WAY!” I snapped my eyes open on the last word.

  I squinted as I registered the man sat before me, I recognized him from somewhere. If only I could remember where…he threw a beige file onto the off white table. The loud smack bounced off the walls, yet I didn’t move, I just sat there, waiting. I had no idea what I was waiting for but I could feel my blood pulsing, faster and faster, something would happen soon; something worth waiting for. Slowly he opened the file then carefully took out individually, I watched as he piled the 24 photos into four neat piles; One pile for each victim. My eyes stayed, transfixed in a cold empty stare, still waiting. My vision had blurred slightly, I wasn’t looking at the photos, not now. I don’t know how long we sat there, silent.

  Eventually I convinced myself to look at the top 4 photos, my eyes brushed over them, not really taking much in. My eyes traced around the square once more, this time I saw something I recognized, it was a mantelpiece. Mahogany, a small golden clock rested on top, photos surrounding it. Photos of happy memories, a wedding. Suddenly, it clicked; I realized where I knew the man. I slowly tore my eyes away from the photo and looked up, into the man’s grey eyes. Shock crossed my face, no, I couldn’t allow him to see me shocked, I immediately switched my expression to anger. Inside I was still shocked but I managed to warp my face into a scowl. Finally he broke the lingering silence.
“So…” He murmured, he was trying to be calm but I could feel an aura of fear and anger fill the room.

“Mackenzie.” I whispered to myself, managing to pour as much hate into my voice to disguise the shock.

“I’m certain that you know why you’re here” He spoke, still trying to keep calm yet the anger and fear were still there, hidden in the shadows.

“Mackenzie.” I repeated, slightly louder yet still angry, this time a little more anger was genuine, the shock was wearing off.

“And I’m certain you know of these murders…” He continued, always keeping the same disguised calm tone.

“Mackenzie.” I said, why wouldn’t he listen to me. Only a little bit of shock was left in my mind.

“I want a-“ he started, I interrupted

“MACKENZIE!”  I screamed as I turned the table over with such a force, scattering the photos and breaking the cassette player. He jumped slightly, but nonetheless was not too shocked about my sudden anger. I realized that I was shaking so I lowered back into my seat.

“I can see this is going to be more difficult than expected.” He whispered to himself as he slowly turned the table upright again. I squeezed my hands into a fist and began rocking back and forth slightly, singing in my mind again. From the corner of my eye I watched him pick up the scattered photos from around the room and re-arrange them into the square made from the 4 even piles. He left the cassette player broken on the floor, it had no matter anymore.

  He was right, completely, I knew why I was here, of course I knew of these murders and yes this would be difficult. Sometimes I wish it wasn’t so hard yet sometimes I’m grateful, if I could remember everything so clearly then it would be a lot harder to carry on.

  I flicked through the first pile of photos, the pile closest to me. The top photo didn’t really help me very much, it was just a house. A red bricked house, a messy hedge was in the foreground. I moved the photo to the back of the pile, to reveal a photo that registered in my mind but not immediately. It was a hallway, dark wooden stairs to the side and a transparent glass door at the end of the hallway. The walls were cream, I remember that much, however a dark crimson colour had taken up most of the walls. My fingers traced the stairs until I put that photo to the back, ready for the next.

  This time it was a large open room, yellow walls, again splattered with the same dark crimson. The sofas were cream again yet the fabric had been dyed scarlet a little. A green carpet had been mainly soaked red, I could remember this room and I could remember that behind the camera there would be a bookshelf, filled with DVDs. I could remember that there was a large black flat screen TV in the room as well. But mostly I could remember the huge mirror that rested above the mantelpiece opposite the sofa.  The mirror that had been shattered and aided the two murders committed in that house.

  Quickly I changed the photo, the fourth one. It was a woman; she had long blonde hair, stained with the same deep red in the previous pictures. She was faceless; all that was left were the empty eye sockets and the holes where her mouth and nose should be. The rest of her body was fine, unscathed it appeared; her fresh sky blue shirt had was red from the neck down. Only a fraction of the bottom remained blue. I stroked the woman’s hair, remembering how it felt in my hands then slowly changed the photo.

  This time it was a man, he wore a suit as if he had just come home from his work. The white shirt was blood stained yet the tie was already red. His shirt had been ripped and torn 9 times; the tears in his shirt were equal to the tears in his flesh. I remember how the reflective glass shard would enter his body then twist and quickly exit.

  I shivered as I came to look at the last photo. It was taken in a room very familiar to me, after having spent so much time there how could I ever forget this place? The main subject of the photo was a large glass jar. The jar was placed next to a heavy oak door. I looked carefully into the jar, caressing its contents with my eyes; slowly taking in everything that the picture could offer. I moved my pale fingers up to the photo to softly stroke what was inside the jar; Lucy’s face. I took out the fourth photo and skimmed my eyes over both of them. The one of Lucy’s blank and faceless body then the one of Lucy’s beautiful face in the glass jar.

“Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes and she’s gone…” I sang quietly to myself.

  I re-arranged the photos into the correct order and replaced them in the square, then I slowly lifted my head up, only to find that Mackenzie had left. I had no idea how long he had gone and I wasn’t sure if or when he would return. I reached out to take the pile of photos to the left of Lucy’s case but then I jerked my hands away. Perhaps I should wait. I wasn’t desperate to look at the next pile, but I didn’t know if I should. I sat there for a while, my eyes closed, singing in my head again. I wasn’t sure when I should open my eyes again so I stayed as I was, peaceful. After a few songs I grew tired and opened my eyes, he still wasn’t there. I gazed around the empty room, sighed, and hesitantly picked up the pile of photos that I had nearly taken before.

  The first photo was of a house again, a different one. It was taken from the opposite side of the road. The road was deserted so the house was clear. There was a shallow slope leading up to the large house, I remember the name clearly enough. Woodkiln, from the photo I could just see the street name on a clean white sign. Penny Lane. I moved away from the grey house, preparing myself for the next picture.

  It was another hallway, the stairs just visible right at the back of the photo. I noticed near the front that the mirror on the left had been smashed, revealing an empty wooden frame, only a few shards were left inside it on the edge. I noticed that the bright shards were still on the floor beneath the frame, I could pick out the cameraman on one of the bits of broken glass. A thick beam of wood went around the walls, separating the top half of the wall, a pale creamy colour and the bottom half, a light shade of yellow. But most of that was covered in a scarlet liquid anyway.

  That was enough of that photo; I put it to the back then rested my eyes upon the next. It was the living room, these walls had a similar wooden plank that went around them, this time the colour was a very pale, almost white brown. The wallpaper was beige and stripy, again the wallpaper was stained scarlet. The carpet was woolen, from a distance it looked off pink and slightly grayish but I remember that when I had looked closer it was made up of lots of different colours. Now the main colour was a shocking red it didn’t matter much anymore. From the corner of the photo you could just pick out another large empty frame that once held a mirror. The cream leather sofas were dyed scarlet, they still looked slightly red. I sighed as I remembered this scene.

  Then I carefully moved on to the fourth photo. It was a woman, copper skinned, stretched across a slightly curved sofa, stained scarlet, she was also faceless. The same holes remained where they should be though. The redness had managed to matt her glossy ebony hair. Her pale pink t-shirt had been soaked red but there was still a small section of pink left at the bottom, just like Lucy. Also like Lucy, the rest of her body seemed completely unscathed.

  The next photo was of a man, the same copper skin tone. He too was wearing a suit as if he had just gotten home from the office. His crystal white shirt had been ruined, soaked with the same scarlet colour as everything else. He also had been stabbed 9 times; I could see his wide brown eyes open with shock. His mouth was open in a small O. I shuddered as I thought of the sharp weapon entering his body, twisting and exiting, just like Lucy’s husband.

  The last photo was another jar, the same size as Lucy’s but next to a different door, this door was a dirty white. I recognized this room just as much as the other one with a jar in it, it was the same house I knew that at least.