We Are Only Human

“Allow me to introduce myself, dear reader, my name is Lorna Sarah Cook Beckham, many see me like a criminal, someone not worthy of attention, others will say the exact opposite... but who to believe? That’s the question I suppose, now what shall your opinion be? Am I the victim? Or am I the oppressor? Or am I only human? I shall let you decide, let my story begin, and may the deception start to become uncovered.”

Lorna Sarah Cook sat shivering under the shelter of a large apartment building, the cold night air of New York City chilling her thin underfed and underdressed body to the bone.

Cars sped past, unaware of the girl, splattering muddy water on her now and then, making her flinch.

She was cold, wet, starving, and ultimately, alone.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, which were becoming visible as they cleared away the mud that caked her pale skin, the memory of her mother screaming at her, throwing empty glass wine bottles at her as she ran out of the building still fresh in her young, and undeveloped mind.

~One Week in The Past~

“Get out of my house!” The woman screeched high on drugs and alcohol, the girl falling down the stairs hitting bottom with a cry of pain.

“You’ve been nothing but a curse since the day you were bloody born!” Brittany Cook hissed.

“Mom, please, I’m sorry!” Lorna begged as she dragged herself to her feet, shaking in terror as she backed towards the door.

“Get out of my sight,” Brittany hissed in anger, throwing another glass bottle at her daughter.

The glass bottle shattered against the wall next to the girl’s shoulder, making the twelve-year-old scream in terror, blood sliding down her face and arm as she runs out the door, panting, the youth’s short brown hair flying out behind her, tears streaming down her cheeks.

~Present Day~

Sobs started to rack at Lorna’s thin and frail body, as she hid her face in her knees, heartbroken and unwanted.

She just wanted to be loved, someone to care about her for once, not brush her to the side, and abuse her.

“Lorna Cook?” A kind but firm voice broke suddenly through her sobs of distress.

The girl gasped in surprise, muffling the sobs instantly, and looked up, a man in a dark suit stood over her, shiny black shoes that he wore were splattered slightly with mud, a thick charcoal grey coat covering his muscular body, and a pair of sea-green eyes, staring down at her, glinted somewhat in the dimly lit alley, studying her.

“W-Who are you?” She stuttered through chattering teeth, pulling herself away from the man.

“My name is Samuel Clay,” he nodded slowly, smiling slightly, his eyes gentle and inviting as he took a small step back, so he didn’t scare her. “I was just looking for you, my Dear, and I think you need some help.”

“You were looking for me?” She asked surprised, suspicion growing in her chest, warning words from her mother ringing in her mind, but then did her mother actually care about her?

No, she still remembered her mother screaming at her, throwing those glass bottles, the cuts still stung.

“Why?” She finally asked quietly, keeping her distance.

Samuel chuckled and knelt in front of her. “You’re an extraordinary girl, Lorna, more special than you could ever know.”

“Really?” The young female raised an eyebrow incredulously.

Samuel nodded. “You have a skill, Lorna, an extraordinary skill called manipulation.”

“Mama said that was bad,” she murmured hesitantly.

Samuel scoffed softly. “Brittany Cook knows nothing, my dear, she is blind to our ways, but you’re, not aren’t you? You know what it’s like to see people hate you, even though they try to hide it.”

Lorna looked at him wide-eyed. “You see it too?”

“Yes Lorna, I do,” he murmured, watching Lorna sway into his hold, her frail and childlike mind reaching for that attention, and for that affection, something he could temporarily provide to bring her into his manipulative hands.

Lorna looked up at him in awe, excitement filling her, someone finally understood her! Finally, someone who wasn’t afraid of her and wanted her. “Can I come with you?!” Then stopped for a moment, not wanting her excitement to ruin this moment she had wanted for so long, and in a quiet voice added. “Please?”

“Yes, you can,” Samuel nodded smiling as he held his roughened hand out to her, watching as she placed her hand, dainty, but scarred from broken bottles which had been thrown at her, in his.

Samuel pulled her up and murmured. “I will show you how to use your words Lorna, and together we will do so much good, maybe even bring peace.”

Lorna looked up at him, excited and nodded. “Yes! We will! They will see we can help!”

“Yes,” Samuel smirked softly and led her towards his car. “They will see.”

“My name is Lorna Sarah Cook Beckham, I’m a daughter, a mother, a widow, a hero, and a criminal, and this is a very long story about how I came to be... now let the story unfold.”

“My name is Detective Liviana Brylee Clay, and I’m a homicide detective for the New York Homicide Squad, my life was never easy, but then no one’s life ever is, so I’m not complaining.

My father, Samuel Clay locked me away with my mother for not being his perfect little doll, which is fine with me, but please, comfortably sit as you listen to my story, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but it’s still alright.”

Liviana glared rebelliously at her father, who looked coldly down at her, his arms folded across his broad chest. “You’ll do as I ask, Liviana, and finish your studies.”

“I’d rather not,” she hissed back, watching him icily. “I know what you’re doing to me! I won’t do it!”

There was no way the young twelve years old would listen to this psychopath, she knew he was, in fact, she had even seen him talking to the other girl who lived in his mansion, but separated by a wall that divided the estate in two, but Liviana could already tell her father favoured the other girl.

Suddenly, Liviana gasped in pain as Samuel’s cane hit her with speed and dangerous anger, across the girl’s face, and she stumbled back falling to the tiled floor, outrage filling her blue eyes as she looked up at him, nursing her cheek.

“Mind your place,” Samuel spat and walked away, his silver-studded cane clipping softly against the tiles as he disappeared down the hall.

Liviana grit her teeth as she leapt too her feet going to yell at the man, but a woman settled her hand on her shoulder, silencing the preteen who looked up.

Her mother, Kathryn Peterson Clay, Samuel Clay’s wife, and she murmured. “Let me see Liv.”

The girl turned to her mother, anger and outrage in her eyes, and the woman knelt by her side, checking her cheek gently.

“You’ll be ok,” Kathryn murmured gently, her eyes were so gentle and loving as they studied her daughter’s face. “Let’s go get some ice for that pretty little face.”

Liviana gave a soft smile and nodded as she looked at her mother, but smiling pained her, the girl’s cheek was swelling painfully, the skin darkening slightly.

Kathryn gave a concerned sigh, leading her daughter down to the kitchen, Liviana clinging to her skirt, almost like an elephant calf clung to the tail of its mother, following obediently, her blue eyes trusting.

Kathryn looked down at her and gave a gentle but sad smile, her daughter didn’t deserve this, and neither that other girl, but Kathryn could do nothing, and that destroyed her.

Liviana looked up at her mother, watching for a moment before murmuring. “Mama? Is something wrong?”

“No, sweetheart, just thinking,” Kathryn murmured gently and walked over too the freezer pulling out an ice pack and put it against her daughter’s cheek.

Liviana leant into it, and sighed in contentment, feeling it soothe the bruise.

Kathryn smiled lovingly and murmured. “There we go.”

Liviana nodded and hugged her mother tightly, closing her eyes as she felt the older woman’s arms wrap around her protectively, gentle kisses pressed into the girl’s hair.

“I love you, mama,” Liviana murmured.

“Love you too sweetheart,” Kathryn smiled softly and sighed, trapped by the man that she once loved, and their daughter and this other child were caught up in the middle of Samuel’s insanity.

“We’ll get out of this soon, I promise,” Kathryn whispered to her daughter, who nodded and hid her face in her mother’s shoulder, clinging to her.

Kathryn looked at her quietly and took a deep breath as she stroked the girl’s hair, hoping, praying that somehow, they could be free of Samuel’s hold.

“My name is Liviana Brylee Clay, I am a daughter, a criminal, a serial killer even, and this is my story.”