She couldn’t remember how she got here or why she was here in the first place. She knows that she’s aching internally; a constantly forceful pressure, that will not be eased. Never even a modicum of relief. Everyone she’s ever loved, has abandoned her. She hated herself and her life; no matter what she did, who she was with, no matter where she was or how much time had passed, it always ended up the same. She couldn’t shake her demons and she drove everybody away from her because of that. The only person who had refused to walk out of her life and stay out, was Tracey. The woman who’d given birth to her.


It was Tracey’s fault that Elaine was so messed up in the head. Damaged, broken and lost. Even at times when she’d had so much to feel positive and happy about, the trauma had always been poised, close-by, waiting for a trigger to unleash its self again.

The memories and the flashbacks, mentally transported her back to the unhealed, still-fresh trauma of her childhood. It was like the stench of winter rain on her skin; clammy, damp, stale, permanently present. It didn’t make a difference, how many times she scrubbed her skin till it was a fiery red, or held herself under the water of a hot bubble bath until her lungs could take no more. She’d always try to resist the urges and the compulsive, destructive behaviour, attempting to appear to everyone in her life that she was a normal functioning, mentally stable human being. It was a facade that eventually crumbled away, revealing her psychological scars and inability to cope in the world around her.


She’d felt lonely even in her first marriage, when she had known she was loved, appreciated and respected. Sean would’ve done anything for her, but Elaine was incapable of accepting support, even from her loyal, committed husband. Elaine had been used by her mother as a child, and that had resulted in her finding it difficult to trust anyone. Those who hadn’t intentionally abandoned her, had died and left her with a gaping hole, where grief, loss and eternal bad luck were the only thing that filled it.

Elaine’s mind and mentality flitted between two states; the state of being temporarily content with her life, and the state in which she believed she was only put on the earth to suffer, and it was pointless to do anything but accept that, and try to live with it. Over the years she’d learned how to suppress some of the memories, but the only thing that had achieved was to make her doubt the reality, of the recurring flashbacks. Had that really happened, or was her mind playing tricks on her?


There was nobody to verify either way, apart from the woman that had created that living hell for her, in the first place.

When Elaine had escaped her small home town of Ainsley, at the age of eighteen, leaving Tracey and her past behind, she’d expected to overcome and in time, forget what she had ever experienced. The things that her mother had allowed to be done to her, for financial gain. And because Tracey was an unhinged sociopath, who enjoyed making, and watching people suffer. Elaine would never be able to comprehend how anyone could willingly hurt an innocent child, for their own pleasure and benefit. The fact that it had been her mother who had inflicted and encouraged cruelty towards her, filled Elaine with hatred, vengeance and mistrust. It didn’t matter how well she was treated by someone, it was her default setting to doubt their genuity. She often ended up sabotaging any relationship - regardless who with - possessed by the perpetual fear and expectation, that she’d lose the person eventually, anyway.


Elaine forced herself to sit up and assess her surroundings; unfamiliar, however easily recognisable. She was groggy, her mouth was parched. The pungent, sweet aroma of brandy, lingered on her breath, her skin, her hair and clothes. She didn’t remember how she got here but she knew it was probably the best place for her to be, until her head stopped swimming with all the questions and self-loathing that she had tortured herself with, since Tracey had no longer been around to be her abuser. Elaine had resorted to victimising herself, convincing herself that she was cursed, and destined to endure a life of horror and despair.


Elaine the Pain, was how she referred to herself, believing that she always ended up being an unwanted burden to the people she loved; the people who loved her. Anyone who tried to correct her opinion and judgment of herself, was simply being sympathetic out of pity. She’d always found it difficult and uncomfortable, accepting compliments and praise. As a child those things had been absent from her life, except for the period she had lived under her grandparents’ care. They had both died by the time she was eight years old, and Tracey had amplified the abuse and neglect, aware that nobody else cared enough about her timid daughter, to step in and rescue her.

There was no longer anybody observing, scrutinising her mothering skills, or lack of them.

Nobody around to offer the child protection, love or respite from the every day horrors that she was experiencing within her home. The place where any child should feel safe, loved and wanted.


For Elaine, chronic sexual, physical and mental abuse had been the only offerings she had received; violated with her mother’s consent, and isolated to prevent her from reporting her suffering to anyone who may have listened.

Now, Elaine was thirty-four years old, with two ex husbands, a fiance that hadn’t even stuck around for their wedding day, and a host of false starts, and unkept promises. Along with the constant feeling of being worthless, and damaged beyond repair. Her father had died just a few months after she’d found him, having not known who her father could have been. She’d lost her much cherished Jack Russell, after he’d ran into a cow field whilst out for a walk. He had been attacked and killed, by a startled and protective dam. The farmer had cursed Elaine so badly, she hadn’t known if she was crying for her dog, or herself. Probably, both. She had left that particular countryside village to return to London, after her failed attempt at getting over the heartache of her first divorce.


She genuinely hated feeling sorry for herself, but it was a vicious and downward cyclone, whereby she used alcohol to forget her troubles, got wasted and created new problems for herself - and those close to her - which then prompted her to drink even more. She had been self-medicating with alcohol, since she’d turned eighteen. The same time she’d waved goodbye to Ainsley, with the intention of never going back. She drank for comfort and anaesthesia, acutely aware that she had rarely achieved her goal.

Elaine was constantly trying to run from, or forget about her past, without success. Tracey Bramble had fucked up Elaine’s life, from the very moment she had conceived her. Elaine hadn’t stood a chance with a mother like that. Not that Tracey would ever have accepted accountability, for any of the pain she’d inflicted upon her only child.


A typical narcissist, Tracey had always taunted Elaine for being too sensitive and soft. Too emotional, too dependant, too weak to survive in the big bad world; where opportunistic predators lurked around every unassuming corner. The way that Tracey viewed the world and its inhabitants, had every individual laden with the responsibility of creating, and following their own path.

Tracey regarded herself as an alpha female. She was proud of her ability to manipulate and control, whomever she chose to be her next victim. She had treated her parents as though they’d been easily disposable pawns, in her never-ending game, where she hurt people simply because she could. People like Elaine allowed themselves to be victims in Tracey’s eyes, and therefore deserved whatever was thrown at them.


Tracey might have been right about that to a certain degree, but it had been the weak, vulnerable daughter who’d triumphed in the end. The shock on Tracey’s face had been something that Elaine could feel proud about. There’d been a glimmer of admiration there, too. Tracey’s ego was so superior, she’d probably been mentally congratulating herself, for having finally transferred some of her power and prowess, to the daughter she’d long ago written off, as a huge disappointment.

Elaine had hoped that her victory against Tracey would finally kill the sounds of her horrific childhood, which had been on a loop for the majority of her pathetic life. But unlike Tracey, Elaine had a conscience; the completed mission had soon turned from feeling like she had accomplished something huge, and gratifying, to feeling tainted, wicked and spoiled. Her actions had been just like her mother’s, and that was definitely not something that Elaine could be proud of.


She’d returned to Ainsley in the midst of her second divorce, with the intention of burying her past, and all of the pain she had suffered in it. But Elaine should’ve known by then, that those memories would only die when Tracey’s life expired. And even then, that wasn’t guaranteed. She just wished she knew how to live a life, in which her past trauma didn’t wreck its way around her present. She wanted and needed, Tracey Bramble to die.