It snarled and thick saliva dropped from its thin, curled lips. The jagged, sharp teeth sat like razor blades in its rancid mouth, hot, putrid breath filtering out with each raspy exhale.

Luckily for me I was viewing this through a crack in the door, but I was sure the creature knew I lurked in the darkness as it sniffed around the crevice through which I watched.

Turning away, it paced around its prison, grunting in anger and frustration. I could let it out and allow it to roam the world and satisfy its unrelenting thirst for blood. It would sink those teeth into the flesh of its victim and pulverise it beyond any recognition. Trouble was, its first victim would be me!

My sister was named after her but I never really understood why. My mother rarely spoke of her but when she did nothing but berating words left her lips. I don't think she liked my Grandmother but she certainly respected her. Or was it fear? My father, on the other hand couldn't praise her enough, she was his mother after all.

He says she was only ever concerned for his wellbeing. My mother says she was an interfering old mare.

My father says she did all she could to help when my sister was born. My mother says she was bossy and over interested.

My father says she was always there for the family. My mother says she outstayed her welcome.

She's gone now.

My father says it wasn't like my mother. My mother says 'Hello' from behind a glass screen.

It's amazing how quiet the world can be when you're the only one remaining in it. It's an eerie silence when not even the birds sing in the trees and the sound of the wind is a lot more prominent without the music of life whispering through it.

One expects to hear a car or the sound of children playing but it never comes. I see the ghosts of what used to be, silent reminders of a time long gone by.

At night the soft beating of my heart, now like a bass drum is all that fills the lonely darkness, and it's my own breath that rouses me from slumber in the light of day.

I open my eyes and wait for my blurred vision to return to normal before looking around the dimly lit room. I'm sitting on a damp, cold floor in nothing but my underwear and a thin vest. The last thing I remember was taking the last sip of my white wine.

There is a window but it's high up and very small. My mouth is so dry and my legs and head both ache. There's a bed opposite me, why then, am I on the floor. I go to stand up but I can't, I'm rooted to the ground. Why is that? My feet are shackled and chained to the wall. That bed doesn't look very welcoming anyway, it's stained and the pillow looks old and weathered. There is also a single wooden chair and a plastic bowl on the floor next to me. It's hard to make out too much as the light is so dull.

I can hear a noise, but it's distant. I can't quite make out what it is, it's a banging sound but it's sporadic and sometimes I think it's died out completely but then I hear it again.

I realise I am hungry. There's clearly nothing to eat here, and nobody to ask for some food.

Then I hear music coming from up above me, many voices singing what sounds like a hymn. Then I hear a voice from outside the locked door. "Go and fetch her, it's time for the sacrifice."

The door creaks open and I can make out a tall figure. Where am I?

I loathe.

I detest.

I despise.

Anger fills me from inside.

I loathe.

I detest.

I despise.

Why do I feel the way I feel tonight?

I loathe.

I detest.

I despise.

But hatred makes me feel alive.

I loathe.

I detest.

I despise.

Yet somehow, I've survived.

To all the rulers of the world, from the kingdom of The Green Valleys,

I am writing to explain to you all that my plan is evolving just exactly as I had hoped.

He has cut off the water supply to all those who refuse to surrender. Watching them wash and draw water from the river gives me great pleasure. He has risen all taxes including for the poor, we are the rulers after all, we deserve a little luxury at the expense of our loyal subjects.

I watch him, daily becoming weaker and more submissive to my suggestion. He used to be such a kind ruler, so understanding of what his people needed. This is exactly why I felt I needed to step in. Take care in what you do for your kingdoms, I may have to pay you a visit too.

He doesn't understand his own decisions anymore, his attempts to resist his own mind are futile. I have the power now.

Anyone who dares revolt against his authority will face certain death. If he dares revolt against me, he will face certain death. He has been brought down and enforces my desires.

I will rule this kingdom, I will rule yours too.

Yours sincerely

Satan

I'm sitting here, outside in my garden, on a cold and drizzly January evening. Glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I've taken a step back.

Looking into the windows of my house, I know there are four lives I have created in there. Four people who rely on me. Three of whom are a product of a failed marriage, of which the father wants no more contact.

I've had a violent relationship where my physical and emotional wellbeing were broken down to nothing, but now I've moved on and I'm happy.

Those four lives are being taken care of by someone who has been diagnosed with a mental health condition. Yeah, I have OCD, did I forget to mention that?!

No one really know what that condition is about, they all think it's a joke. Something that's put on TV to entertain the masses. No. You're wrong. It's ruined my life.

But still, I take care of those four lives. Still I maintain this home I have built, and dinner is served at 5pm, and clothes are washed and pressed. I am immaculately turned out, day in, day out. But that black cloud looms, and those four lives are taken care of.

So where do I go from here, on this cold and drizzly January evening? With my glass of wine and my cigarette. With my heart in tatters and full of regret.

I write.

I'm tangled in this web of lies.

Yet here I am in my disguise.

I came here to escape my past,

Now I'm not winning, I've come in last.

What that evil man did to me, I have never been able to repeat.

I made my life worse, drugs and ending up on the street.

I fled that life but now I see,

The ghosts that haunt inside of me.

Each day I try so hard to find,

A place to go,

Some goodness in humankind.

All I want is to belong,

In a world where everyone seems so strong.

I'll not give in, I'll put up a fight.

Just don't think it will be tonight.

The thoughts I hear would make you hurl.

I guess I'll always be that forgotten girl.

Don't cry. Do not cry. If they see me I will surely face their punishment.

They're watching. They are hidden but we all know they're watching.

As the curtain closes around my beloved daughters coffin, I hold my breath and bite my lip. I must not cry.

At home, in my own space and I still cannot cry. You're not weak. You can do it. You must not cry.

The light outside fades, and I almost believe that I am alone. I can feel it rising within me, my throat begins to tighten.

I can hold it in no longer, a long repressed sob escapes my lips. That was all it would take, they would be here soon. Now all I would know from here would be the darkness and isolation of the weak ones.

I am one of them now. Forever.