Chapter 1

A kingfisher was perched upon a spindly branch of a tall tree on a lakeside in the beautiful rolling landscape of Lancashire, England, 11^th Dimension. His emerald feathers glistened in the afternoon light as his small, black, beady eyes scanned the waters of the lake for dinner. Suddenly, he leapt from his perch and twisted in the air, as though a turquoise ribbon falling to the ground. He transformed to a blur of pea green, rich orange and pure white, and dived down, his sharp, black beak aiming for a decided spot on the lake surface. But before he hit the sparkling lake the kingfisher changed direction and soared back into the air and flew away from the waters.

What had changed the mind of the tiny bird? He had sensed something. He sensed something in the water. That unknown presence had been there for several days now and it required the kingfisher to fly several miles away to the brook. The kingfisher found it awfully tiring and a great bother. However, it was either the long trek or death. He had seen it happen to other birds and dreaded the disease to happen to him.

And it didn’t seem to just be birds that were affected by the disease. Many a time had the kingfisher seen the white vans zoom along the road with the red and blue lights blinking curtly to collect a sick human, who had swam in the lake, having a great fuss of other humans over them.

The kingfisher flew through the air looking down on the land beneath him. There was a bridge crossing the lake at the narrowest point. It was a small bridge, wide enough for only one vehicle. As a car entered it would come across a gravel road that developed into a circular drive. Directly opposite the bridge and the island in the centre of the drive was Fox Hall. The lake snaked around Fox Hall so that it surrounded the building on three sides, and to the back of the hall there was a large garden which fizzled out into a wood. The kingfisher admired the human ‘nest’. It was well built and attractive. These humans definitely had the right stuff.

Fox Hall consisted of three storeys, built from large sandstone blocks that were over three hundred years old. It was a magnificent building with a series of steps leading up to the large oak door. On either side of the steps were two statues, similar to those of lions found at the entrance to some hotels. These were different in that they were foxes. The stone and weathered predators stood, looking down at anyone who entered or left the building. But they were old now and had been heavily shaped by the weather and it was anyone’s guess whether the foxes were, in fact, foxes or some other four legged animal.

The kingfisher, oblivious to the stone features, swooped around Fox Hall to an L-shaped building to the back of the building. These were once stables, but now had been made more proficient through a conversion to a series of six apartments reserved for on-site members of staff, amongst these being the latest in the Fox family tree Timothy James Fox and Joseph Quintus Fox, his son. It was their historic hall, stretching back into the Fox lineage. It had been abandoned throughout the nineteenth and most of the twentieth century when one Fox was deported to Australia, but Tim had restored it to its former glory and now used it as a sometime hotel, sometime venue for weddings and private functions. The father and son had lived there for eight years since Tim’s wife, Joe’s mother, Naomi, had died.

Tim was sitting on one of four benches surrounding a small, trickling fountain. Joe lounged on an adjacent one. The kingfisher sat upon the guttering and watched as the father and son’s calm conversation developed into a heated argument.

“I don’t see why you don’t want to... It’s like a family tradition. Your grandfather was a Guardian, as were many other fathers before them,” said Tim, stressed tensely.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for the whole hero escapade. I know what it’s like to have cameras and microphones shoved in front of me and I don’t like it,” Joe retorted, being reminded of that horrible moment eight years ago. “I want a normal life. I want to go back to the boarding school and complete my education. Does that sound so strange to you?”

“No. It doesn’t sound strange at all. I wanted the exact same thing until…” Tim faltered; his argument would fail if he continued that sentence. “Look, being a Dimension Guardian doesn’t make you famous. The only reason those journalists were harassing us was because of your mother’s fame and glory from when she was a singer. I don’t have any fame whatsoever, and touch wood…” Tim tapped the bench to seal the magic, “…I never will.”

“Even so, I don’t want to be a Dimension Guardian.” Joe took a drink from a bottle of water he had with him.

“I understand that. But, do it for me. For your mother,” Tim articulated.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me feel bad for not respecting Mum’s wishes,” Joe grimaced. “I don’t want to be a hero, full stop. Why do you want me to have an abnormal life without friends?”

“I only want you to be happy. I think…”

“Then let me do what I want with my life!” Joe erupted.

“Can I finish?” Tim asked sternly. Joe fell quiet, respectfully yet reluctantly. “I think you’d be happier as a Dimension Guardian.”

“I think I know what I’d be happy as,” Joe grumbled. Tim got up from his bench and sat beside his son.

“I know you do, and so would your mother.” Tim knew this would grab Joe’s attention. “You know as well as I do that she would be backing me up.”

In reality, Tim knew that Naomi wouldn’t back him up. Naomi was very protective of Joe and Joe’s own decisions. She would have hated to think that Tim was forcing their son into circumstances he wanted to steer well clear of. But Joe had been only six at the time of Naomi’s death. Joe’s dark, deep eyes appeared to shake as tears began to well up, but he forced them away.

“Stop it, please!” Joe hissed pitifully, “I’m not a bad person! Don’t treat me like this. I love Mum, but there are some things that I just can’t do.” There was a silence as the two of them felt guilty - Tim for pushing his son, and Joe for not attempting to fulfil his mother’s alleged wishes. Then Joe spoke again. “Even if I did want to be a Guardian why can’t you teach me?”

Tim groaned. “I would not teach you. I could not teach you. It would be improper. You wouldn’t listen to me. Xaltu will teach you. He’s the Great Dimension Bird, and has an extensive knowledge on the Dimensions. Yes, I understand that I know a lot as well, but Xaltu has a lot of access to resources that can help you. He can teach you all you need to know.”

“And why can’t you?”

“I’d only be dragged into another quest, and I don’t want that. At the end of this year, I’m retiring from the position and will focus my attentions on maintaining Fox Hall.”

“But I want you to teach me!”

“And I want Xaltu to teach you! He will be your teacher whether you want him to be or not! Understood?” Tim yelled. Joe stormed out of the courtyard, leaving his father to make his way to his office to regret his actions. The kingfisher, having lost his spectacle, continued on his flight to the faraway brook.

Joe was lying on a grassy field next to the lake. The sun beat down on his wavy black hair and pale skin that simply wouldn’t darken however much sun exposure he had. It would only burn to an intense red, then return to the original, pale complexion. He feared he would burn if he didn’t put on cream. But, being a typical young teenager, he simply couldn’t be bothered. In addition to this attitude, he would have to go to his father to get it. Joe got up and strolled towards the sleepy shade of the nearby weeping willow tree.

He collapsed and rested against the trunk of the tree. His back hurt against the rough bark of the tree, but it felt good. It was strangely therapeutic. Joe’s thoughts continued to fume about his father. Why did his dad have to try and control everything? Joe cursed his father again. Why was he was so difficult? It hadn’t been the first time this argument had taken place. Ever since he was twelve the father and son had had small outbursts over Joe’s career. Tim insisted that Joe follow his footsteps and become a Guardian: a hero to save the Dimensions from maniacs who wanted to control all. It was a profession that Joe had grown up with all his life. His parents were very often away and he was left with a nanny called Fatema. When he was six, Fatema got married and left and Naomi was killed.

Joe hated himself for that past argument with his father. He had argued the same points over and over again. It had only been a matter of time before his father exploded like that. Tim used the same points and the same techniques as well. Joe knew that his father knew that whenever Naomi was mentioned Joe’s persistence would weaken. And then Joe would think about what it would be like to a Dimension Guardian, and although some parts seemed to be thrilling, he also knew the heartache that accompanied the thrill. He didn’t want to think it. He despised the idea of having the responsibility of everyone’s lives. He couldn’t even handle the responsibility of feeding a goldfish- it had died within two days of being bought, much to the infant Joe’s dismay.

Joe believed that his lack in responsibility was due to a lack of proper parenthood. His father was so often away and, even before his mother died, he didn’t really know her.

Naomi had been killed eight years ago in an escape attempt. She and Joe had been kidnapped, and during the escape organised by Tim, Naomi had been shot. Joe’s life had been turned upside down after that day. Everyone wanted to know how he had felt, how he had got on with his mother. He had been so young. Had the questions really been so important as to distress an already distressed child? The funeral had taken place two weeks after the murder, and Tim had been forced to hire a police force to stop the reporters from interrupting the ceremony.

Joe had so many bad memories from his life. Death and abandonment had seemed to accompany him through life. Then again, Death also seemed to stalk his father, anyone Tim got close to never lasted very long. Maybe it was his father who had such an association with death, not him. Either way, Joe had experienced too much death for a young lad. Joe sunk further down the tree and stared into the sky at the passing clouds. As a child, he believed that the faces he sometimes saw in the clouds were those of the dead looking down upon the world they had left. Joe knew that this was ridiculous now, but he still watched out for his mother in vain. He had been robbed of her forever. All he had left of her were photos and the imprint on his memory and his heart.

Tim was in his office in Fox Hall. He had his laptop out and was typing up the final volume of his autobiography for the records for Xaltu to keep in the Hall. The previous volumes of it had been printed off and lay on the desk in a neat pile. However, he couldn’t concentrate on his pastime; he was constantly being distracted and running his hands through his ageing and greying hair. He liked to tease other people by saying his hair wasn’t grey as it was silver. He knew he had to accept that age was catching up with him, but it was difficult. For his whole adult life he had been so agile and energetic, running around the various Dimensions trying to save everyone. He could no longer be as swift and competent as he used to be. Hence his retirement to his focus on managing Fox Hall. He knew that this was the right move. For the last few years, he had always longed to be home. Home amongst the trees and the water. His own little haven.

His desk was beside the window, which looked out upon the lush, green meadow and the lake. He could see Joe when he was lying on the lawn, but had lost sight of him when Joe moved to beneath the willow tree. Tim closed his laptop to think, but a photo frame revealed by closing the lid changed the topic of his thoughts. The photo was of Naomi.

Naomi’s pale face and long black hair brought back many memories. Tim remembered how she was stubborn, not wanting to be rescued by him in her first kidnapping. He remembered how funny she was, and how she faced any problem calmly. Even during the sleepless nights as Joe howled as a baby, she managed to sing to Joe to put him to sleep.

Tim picked up the frame. This was his favourite, even though it was he who had taken it; professional photographers had taken the majority of the other photos of Naomi. Tim had a lot of photographs of Naomi modelling and posing, but this photo was one with the most natural of smiles, and the most beautiful of photographic composure - and entirely coincidental. Tim was no photographer, but he cherished his own photo more than anything - more than any of the art spouted out from the modelling shoots. Naomi had been a famous actress and singer, well known in many of the Dimensions. She had accomplished various number ones in her career and had become a household name. But after her kidnapping, Naomi had decided to give up the high life of fame and became a Dimension Guardian with Tim, the most romantic case that Xaltu had ever experienced. It was a great contrast to the situation between Tim’s own parents. His father, Amos Fox, had reluctantly given up his wife, Karen, through divorce when Karen refused to become a Dimension Guardian with him.

Tim opened the frame and removed the photo. He wanted to hold it as a photograph, open and raw rather than shut behind a pane of glass. Although the glass protected the photo from the elements, it was a barrier. An obstruction between him and his wife. But as he did remove the photo, he exposed an old envelope. Tim was shocked. How long had it been there? He delicately put the photo down and picked up the envelope. It was addressed with a single word: Tim. It was from Naomi - it was her handwriting. Tentatively and excitedly, Tim flipped the envelope over and carefully ripped it open, removing the letter. He unfolded it and read it, absorbing each word from his long-lost wife.

To Tim,

As I write this, I feel like the worst possible wife. We made vows to share our secrets and yet I have not obeyed that promise. I have betrayed you in the worst ways a wife can because what I have said to you all these years have been lies.

As you know, I am an orphan. I grew up in the orphanage from about the age of twelve or thirteen. My age is unclear. However, my life before then is unknown to anyone save for a few of my most trusted friends. And now, it is your turn. With our personal circumstances, I felt it best not to tell you in person. My land of origin is Nothing.

“What?” Tim spoke out loud. His voice scared him as it cut through the suspenseful silence, but he quickly eradicated his fear with his confusion. How was this possible?

Writing it now, the truth sounds ridiculous, but it is the truth. I was sent from my home as one of three virginal maids to deliver relics from our home. I travelled across Nothing until I came to the Lake of Gateways. I stumbled through and entered your world alone. A world that was so much healthier for me.

The orphanage were good to me. They were patient in their teachings of me, after all, I was but a wild, unruly girl. They also spent a large fortune on dental work to correct my savage teeth. I am in their debt greatly. Bless them. The relic I had been given the protection over I kept my own for so long until I realised that it was sought. Sought by the woman who has struck terror into our lives. Simny. Once, we were friends. Now mortal enemies and all because of the relic, this Stone. I had hidden my Stone carefully, and then she kidnapped me and you were good enough to rescue me. After that kidnapping and we had entered happy matrimony, I knew that Simny would return. So I hid the Stone again, in a new location. A place that only you and Joe will know.

This Stone that I mention is one of four. Collectively, they are the Elemental Stones. One of Fire, one of Earth, one of Air and one of Water. Legend speaks of monstrous Queens that dwell within them, but I no longer know the truth behind them. I cannot risk Simny finding it. So, just to make her life harder, and yours too in the process, I have created a series of riddles leading to my Stone: the Elemental Stone of Fire. I do apologise, and if I am still alive when you find this feel free to confront me about it! If not, then I am so very sorry but I had no choice but to protect the Stone.

I have set you riddle that will lead you towards the location of the Stone:

You left me alone,

You left me with your headstone.

And all I have of you, my love,

Is a weathered epitaph.

Remember, Tim, I do love you so much and I dread what you think of me as you read this. With love, Naomi.

Tim put the letter down on the desk, unfolded, the text in view for all to see. He collapsed into an armchair in the corner of the room and stared on the can of worms that had been opened. His late wife had just given him a new quest, right before his retirement. It was incredible, and entirely unbelievable. Tim needed minutes to try and make sense of it all and let this ground-breaking news sink in. There was a gentle rapping at the door. “May I come in?” a voice called from the other side of the door. Tim dried his eyes on his sleeve and permitted entry to the person. The door opened and Judith trundled in with a tray. Judith was the Catering Manager and cook for the people who lived at Fox Hall. She was an overly large, jovial woman of about 45, with rosy cheeks on smooth, fair skin and black curly hair.

“Hello,” Judith greeted joyfully. “And how are you today?”

“Downright miserable,” Tim replied, not lifting his head.

“Well, I’ve brought you some coffee and your favourite choccy biscuits. That should cheer you up.” Judith saw the photo. Now she understood. She put the tray down, and began to clear the desk. She put everything in a small pile, humming a tune to herself. The letter was put, unintentionally, on top.

Judith didn’t mean to intrude or be nosy, but her eyes caught a couple of words. Judith panicked and looked at Tim. She shifted heavily (it’s difficult not to shift heavily at Judith’s size) on the spot before finally inquiring: “This letter-”

“It’s from Naomi. It’s private, I’m afraid,” said Tim, rising and slipping the letter between two pages of one of the volumes of his autobiography, and out of the way of prying eyes.

“That’s quite understandable, of course,” she laughed nervously, “But I just caught a glimpse of a few words.”

“Which words?” Tim asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.

“The bit about the Elemental Stone of Fire.”

“What about it?”

“You see, I have…the Elemental Stone of Earth.”

* * *

The young black-haired woman knocked on the door quickly. She’d been standing outside for a while now, and if she didn’t do it quickly, then she would never do it. A voice from the other side of the door granted her entry. The woman opened the door delicately. Sitting at a desk was an overly large lady who looked like an older, fatter version of the woman who had just entered. The lady turned round in her seat and smiled, her cheeks and chins wobbling like jelly. “Hello Naomi,” she said to the woman who had just entered. “Have a seat on the bed.” Naomi did so, removing a bag from her shoulder and sitting it in her lap. “What can I do you for?” the lady asked, standing up and turning her chair round to face Naomi.

Naomi breathed. “I need to ask a favour of you, Judith.” Her voice resonated with seriousness and Judith shifted uneasily. There was a uneasy undertone to her voice, like a child scared of the dark. “I need you to take something from me and keep it and hide it and not tell a single soul.” Judith was now quite concerned. Naomi was sounding sinister.

“What is it you need me to take?” Judith asked. Naomi smiled a wistful smile and opened her drawstring bag that was lying on her lap. From the bag, she withdrew a Stone. It was large and opaque green with a pea green mist swirling around inside. Naomi held it with such protection and care that Judith was almost afraid to take it. Naomi held it out to her and Judith tentatively reached out to take it. Naomi reassured her that it would not harm her, and Judith took it from Naomi’s hands. It was heavy and Judith could appreciate a burden deeper than weight as she looked into the dancing mists. “What is it?”

“The Elemental Stone of Earth,” Naomi replied, frankly and to the point. “It is something that I have had for years, including my days at the orphanage. And now I need to hide it. You understand that giving it to you is the last option that I wanted to take, but it is the only way I know that it is safe.”

“The Elemental Stone of Earth,” Judith whispered, the syllables rolling off her tongue like the finest poetry. “What makes it so dangerous?” The pair’s eyes met and Judith immediately knew the answer. “Simny.” Naomi nodded. “Why?”

Naomi shrugged. “I don’t know, but she is obsessed with them and I cannot risk her getting her hands on them. Please, protect it.”

“Of course, I will. Does anyone else know?” Judith enquired. Naomi shook her head. “No. Not even Tim. And he mustn’t know. Not now. If...dear me. If he comes to you and asks for it, oblige him. But then and only then can you give it to him.”

“I don’t understand.” Naomi laughed, and Judith felt small and stupid.

Then Naomi said, “Neither do I, Judith. It’s such folly and foolishness that I think trying to comprehend will only increase our miscomprehension! I am sorry, but just hide it until… Just hide it.” Judith nodded, and Naomi smiled, her shoulders relaxing as the burden was removed. “Thank you.

* *

Judith wondered what to do, Tim was supposed to know, wasn’t he? Naomi had said he would. What should she do? She lied. “I know it sounds absolutely crazy, but my husband, God rest him, gave it to me on our 10^th anniversary. He told me what it was, and I thought he was telling me a yarn.”

“Where is it?”

“I have a box where I keep all things that are very precious to me. It’s in there,” Judith explained.

“Show it to me. Your life is in great danger.”

Judith saw in Tim’s face an expression of absolute fear and bewilderment. Something was haunting him, something that Naomi had written in her letter to him. But whatever she had put in that life-shattering letter had obviously not been enough. Tim was frightened and the worst of it was that he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was afraid.

Joe was bored. He had been sitting under the tree for almost half an hour, with no one to keep him company but his thoughts. He began picking at the leaves of the willow tree, and then at the grass. Boredom was not the word. Intense tedium. That was more like it. There was nothing to do at Fox Hall if you are the only teenager there. No proper form of entertainment. Of course, television was always a option, but Joe would feel like he was wasting this beautiful summer day. They came rare in Northern England.

His thoughts began to haunt him with memories of his past. Deaths and shuns. His life was so miserable. He gazed at the lake. Light danced upon its surface in an ever-changing dance routine. Joe edged closer. The water looked so cool and refreshing. Joe stared at the water, hypnotized. He lay down on his front and dangled his hand in the water. Then he began to swirl the water around into a whirlpool. The water was so refreshing. Joe removed his sandals, rolled up his jeans and put his feet in. It felt so relaxing and purifying.

Before Joe knew it he was in the lake all together, enjoying the pleasures of life, his clothes lying on the bank. He floated on his back, staring up at the sky. The clouds drifted slowly across the azure sky. A bird entered his view as a simple silhouette, and left again, deserting him. Joe felt secluded lying in the water. No other being existed whilst Joe floated there in the water of such tranquillity. He exhaled and all his tension and inner conflicts seemed to melt away into the air and fly away on the soft breeze.

Soon, the kingfisher returned from the brook. The curious, or simply nosey, bird sat, innocently and magnificently, upon a rotting log on the opposite bank. It watched in horror and alarm as Joe swam. The white vans with their crazy and obnoxious lights would arrive any time soon.

Joe oblivious to the danger could feel his sadness and stress flowing out of him. Nothing mattered any more. Nothing except the lake and the wonderful feeling it brought to him had any effect upon his emptying mind. The water smelt like roses, but stronger. It was drugging him. He felt drowsy and wanted to curl up in the middle of the lake and sleep.

“Hey! Get out of the water!” A man was shouting at Joe from the bank. Joe, angry at being disturbed, looked up at him, a confused expression across his face. “Get out of there now!” the man ordered.

“Why?” Joe replied.

“Haven’t you read the signs? This lake has a virus. You can get serious skin problems. Now get out!” Joe panicked; he did vaguely recollect something about a virus. The fumes of the lake becoming useless and his worries filing back into his brain. He swam to the bank and began to pull himself up.

But as he pulled himself onto the land, the bank collapsed. Joe fell back into the water. He was forced to the bottom of the lake by the clump of earth. Murky, brown water surrounded him. Bubbles from his silent screams rose past his face to the surface. He attempted to push of the powdery lake bed, but failed. His limbs were flailing everywhere. He couldn’t see a thing but the water swirling around him. He spun around in the water. Everywhere he looked was the threatening brown water. The bubbles created images and pictures in his terrified mind. Demons! Devils! Snatching at his feet. Clawing his legs. The bubbles and the water smothering him, stealing hid breath and ribbing him of all rationality. Down and down, the evil spirits dragging him down to their grisly lair, and his underwater grave,

His lumbering flails were weakening. His limbs aching and moving in what seemed like slow motion. He was tired, but still he attempted to reach for the surface. And his mind slowed too, thoughts took an era, no, an age to formulate. He cried out silent pleas for help from his father. And he lost consciousness, his world sinking into oblivion.

Tim and Judith were in Judith’s room sorting through her box of precious things. Eventually she pulled out the Stone. It was round in shape, a perfect sphere. The diameter of the orb was similar to the diameter of a CD. It was heavier than it looked. Neither of them knew what it was made out of. They guessed glass or emerald, because it was opaque and a green. From within came a soft green glow and a sea green mist swirled around inside. The two stared at it in awe.

“Isn’t it beautiful!”

“Yes, but also dangerous.”

“How so?” Judith asked curiously, unable to take her eyes of the enchanting object.

“It just is. I know it must be difficult to believe me, but try to trust me.” Judith slowly nodded. “Where did your husband get this from?”

“I don’t know, but it was a grandfather or something who had told him what it was.”

“Anything about its history?”

“Only that it contained the essence of the element of Earth. Well, something crazy like that. The kind of made-up story a grandfather would tell a grandchild when putting him to bed! Utterly ridiculous.” But a look from Tim told Judith that she was wrong in her judgement of the tale. “It’s true?”

“I can’t go into details, but, yes, it is true. I know very little about it myself, so I can’t really tell you anything more.” Tim took the orb from the entranced Judith. “We have to destroy it,” Tim said. Judith reacted to this very differently to how Tim expected.

“What? How can you destroy it? It’s such a pretty thing!”

“There is a woman who is obsessed with the Stones. She kidnapped my wife twice; my son once, and then murdered my dear Naomi. All for the sake of a Stone.”

“That woman wants your one. This is the Elemental Stone of Earth. She doesn’t know about this one.”

“Even so, I suggest that you destroy it. Anything to throw this woman off the scent,” Tim suggested.

“It seems to be pretty impenetrable.”

“Then get rid of it. The closer it is to me, the more danger everyone is in!”

“I’m sure you’re over-reacting but fine. My niece is doing some work experience next week. I’ll give it to her to take back home.”

“Thank you, Judith,” Tim said, sitting back down. Though there wasn’t much point. A few seconds later, his secretary burst through the door shouting about Joe and his accident and Tim was up again.

Rhiannon heard the doorbell ring. Under normal circumstances she would answer the door, but she was not under normal circumstances. “Emma?” a female voice shouted through the letterbox. Rhiannon’s eyes swelled up again. Emma was her mother. The voice rang out again, and Rhiannon recognised it as her mum’s friend from work, Janice. There was silence for a while before there was a faint sound of a rapping on the window. “Emma? You haven’t been at work for a week. I’ve come to check up on you.”

“She’s dead,” Rhiannon croaked to herself. She knew that Janice couldn’t hear her weak voice from the upstairs bathroom. “I wish I was dead too,” she added in a hoarse whisper.

“Emma!” There was a shriek from outside. Had Janice seen the tragedy that was lying on the living room floor through the net curtains? “Help! Help!” Rhiannon could hear Janice screaming down the street. “Someone call an ambulance! Quickly!”

Rhiannon heard very little after that. Ten minutes later, the blaring sound of a siren met Rhiannon’s tired ears, like a calling to safety. But Rhiannon did not want safety. She wanted her mother to be alive. She wanted her by her side.

“Is there anyone else in the family, save from these two?” a male voice asked, formally.

“There was a daughter. I think her name was Reena…”

“Rhiannon!” the girl said, stubbornly. “My name is Rhiannon!”

Doors were opened and slammed shut as they searched for the girl.

“Please don’t find me. Let me die…” Rhiannon closed her eyes in a desperate and final attempt to die. The door to the downstairs toilet opened. Shouts were made as it discovered she was barely alive, and the dying girl was rushed off to hospital.