Jade Kelly - The Bad Room: Held Captive and Abused by My Evil Carer. A True Story of Survival.

Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect privacy.

HarperElement

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First published by HarperElement 2020

FIRST EDITION

Jade Kelly and Douglas Wright 2020

Cover design Claire Ward HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Cover photographs Nelly Yotova/Arcangel Images (girl, posed by a model); Silke Kemmer/Arcangel Images (background)

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

Jade Kelly and Douglas Wight assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780008388959

Ebook Edition June 2020 ISBN: 9780008388966

Version: 2020-06-05

Take me back to where the sky and sea collide,

where I knew in that moment we were infinite

Ssh!

What?

I think I can hear something.

Youre imagining it.

I said, Shh. I cant hear over you two talking.

I cocked my ear towards the door. There was sometimes a telltale sign the squeak of the living-room door hinge, the creak of the bottom stair, a squelch of a leather boot that might give some indication that she was approaching. If we all heard it at the same time wed each be under the duvet without anyone having to sound the warning. It offered little to no protection, of course, but nevertheless wed try to cover the most vulnerable parts of our bodies, the areas she always went for the hair, stomach, legs. If one of us clocked something there might only be time to sound the alarm and duck for cover, leaving the others to fend for themselves. Not being quick enough to get under the duvet could be fatal. As would being caught sitting up or, worse, out of bed. Even being caught before you could feign sleep, just lying there with one eye open, meant punishment. Who was I kidding? Like she needed an excuse. When someone metes out beatings for fun theyll come up with any reason to satisfy their lust.

Wed been silent for nearly a minute. Still nothing.

Just because I hadnt heard another sound meant little. She could still be waiting right outside the door, ready to pounce. Shed been known to wait several minutes just to catch us out. Tonight was a tricky one, though. She had guests in her older children who didnt know anything of what went on upstairs, just like Terry, her ever-trusting hubby. Theyd never believe what she got up to. Not that sweet old lady. The one who wanted us to call her Granny. She wasnt capable of anything like that. Theyd be like everyone else who didnt believe us. Nasty girls, theyd think. Say anything for a bit of attention, they will. After all we do for the little wretches.

But just because she was entertaining didnt mean shed take her eye off the ball. There were no nights off. No respite. No easy rides in the Bad Room.

Well? Sara said. She always found it hardest to keep quiet. That was my fault. Id brought her out of her shell a little. Before I was condemned to the Bad Room she was a little church mouse. She wasnt much older than me but youd never tell from looking at us. Such a skinny thing, like her big sister, Arlene. Now she was a funny one; given how old she was two years older than Sara and that she towered over everyone in his house, including her sister, youd think she might put up more of a fight. But she was like the dogs you saw on those animal cruelty adverts on TV, the ones with the haunted eyes that gave a glimpse of the terror theyd faced.

Maybe nothing, I said. Id been in this place so long my mind played tricks on me.

As I was saying, Sara went on from where she was sitting on the top bunk above me, her bare legs swinging down, atop a duvet that was half pulled back for ease of entry. If this goes on well have to steal food from school tomorrow.

Me steal, more like, I said, recalling the last time Id swiped some muffins when wed gone without food for a day. The mention of food brought on a pang of nausea, the memories of sweet choc-chip muffins made my mouth water. Today hadnt been too bad; wed actually had breakfast. Nothing for lunch and she had played her game with dinner again; leaving a ham sandwich if you could call it that at the bottom of the stairs but neglecting to call us to get it, then making a big deal of punishing us for being ungrateful. If you lot dont want your dinner, that suits me fine. You can starve.

Boy, did we starve. I couldnt tell you how much my stomach had shrunk since Id moved here but it still hurt to go without. Gulping mouthfuls of water from the bathroom tap wasnt the same. Even if the sandwich was one sliver of wafer-thin ham on two tea biscuits it was like a royal banquet to us.

I could steal too, you know. Saras soft voice came from above. I could picture her indignant frown. The legs stopped swinging.

Yeah, right. Youd brick yourself. I liked taking the mick out of her but the truth was I didnt want her to get into trouble. If I got caught it would only be me getting the flak. Like last time. I wouldnt want Sara to go through what I did when I got home and she had been waiting for me.

Bloody could you know, Sara had raised her voice above the acceptable level. I caught Arlenes eye. She knew we were taking a big risk talking this loudly. Sara carried on regardless: Id bring back food for all

CRASH!

The door swung open so violently I thought it would break off its hinges.

Oh hell!

Whos talking?!

For a small lady she sure filled the doorway. I only caught a glimpse of black the knee-high boots and that hair before I dived undercover.

You!

Even under the duvet, my eyes were tight shut. I heard the scream over the smack on flesh. Sara. Shed never have made it under in time. Another scream, the shaking of the bunk beds, a yelp and a bang and scream combined. I didnt need to be watching to tell the nature of the violence. I knew well enough by the reaction. A slap to the thigh, a fistful of hair and a wrench that would have hauled Sara off her bunk down onto the floor. Definitely a sore one.

Ill ask again. Who was talking?

Dont say a word, Sara. Dont say a word. There was strength in numbers. We had to stick together. Pitting us against each other was the way she wanted it. I could hear whimpering. I imagined Saras lip quivering. Another slap. The yell.

You! The sound of another smack on cotton. Most likely Arlene this time. Maybe a boot to her stomach or back, depending on how she was lying.

So its like that, is it?

I pulled the duvet a little tighter around my head. My whole body was rigid. Sara was still whimpering, probably on the floor where she fell.

Ive told you to be quiet. Do you think I was born yesterday?

Apart from the whimpering there was silence. Good girl, Sara.

This isnt over.

A shuffle towards the door, a pause, and then the door quietly closed shut.