The 14th of May 1990, a date that is permanently etched into my mind. I remember the details of that day like it was yesterday.

I was 18 years old and my whole life lay in front of me. Little did I know when I woke that morning of the fateful sequence of events that would begin later in the day. Events that would shatter my very existence and come close to destroying the one closest to me.

I woke early, around 6am as I usually did. I blinked my eyes in the bright morning sun, which was shining in through the thin, pink curtains of my bedroom. Small slivers of light danced around the room, sunlight reflecting off the crystals hanging from my light shade.

I threw off the light duvet cover and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I can still feel every sensation of that morning, sensations that at the time I took for granted. The soft caress of a silk night dress against my skin, the thick, plush carpet beneath my bare feet. Simple things but things that I would, in time come to long for.

The smallest details linger with me even now. My room wasn’t large, but it was comfortable. A white wardrobe stood in the corner of the room, full almost to bursting with my many clothes. A low dresser sat next to my bed. My personal possessions were laid out upon it, my makeup, necklaces, rings and a small inconspicuous wooden box, the contents of which would prove to be the first domino to fall, in a line leading to my eventual undoing.

The walls of my bedroom, a pastel pink were adorned with my own artwork, my paintings and drawings. I used to love nothing more than to lose myself with a pencil or paintbrush and bring into reality, those fanciful scenes that played out in my imagination. A unicorn galloping, carefree across a flowering meadow. A leaf clad fairy, cautiously dipping her toe into a shimmering, silver pool.

To this day, how I long for my mind to allow me to see those most wonderous and magical imaginings once again, rather than the darkness and horrors that plague my thoughts now.

Pulling my nightdress off over my head, I reached for my towel. A simple, white but luxuriously soft bath towel. Wrapping it around myself, I left my bedroom and stepped out onto the well lit landing. The doors to the other bedrooms, those belonging to my parents and my brother were securely closed with the inhabitants soundly sleeping on the other sides. Our family dog, Bella, a large, black German Shepherd lay curled at the top of the stairs keeping guard over our apparently perfect little family.

That was always how it was, the family sleeping with Bella dutifully keeping watch.

I liked to get up early, before the house awoke into its usual chaotic din. At this time in the morning, the house was silent. The only sound was the soft hum of the fridge downstairs and a chatter of the birds drifting in though my open bedroom window.

I stepped into the bathroom, the cool white tiles under my feet and the slight chill in the air prickling goose bumps on my skin. There was always a slight chill to the air in that bathroom, even when the rest of the house was warm. It wasn’t something that I found unpleasant, if anything I found it rather invigorating.

Letting the towel drop to my ankles, I stepped into the shower and turned the tap. The deliciously warm water splashed over my body before spiralling down the plughole. The heady scent from the essential oils in my soap filled the room. As I write this now so many years later, I can still smell those oils as if I were there, that intoxicating blend of peppermint and cedarwood.

Such a simple thing in life, a warm shower and the soft, perfumed bubbles from that wonderful soap covering my skin.

Stepping out of the shower I felt clean, my skin smooth and fragrant, my hair soft and shimmering.

Picking the towel up from the floor, I dried myself off. I remember glancing at myself in the mirror and smiling while running a brush through my long, wavy blonde hair, wondering what this beautiful spring day had in store for me.

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I stepped out onto the landing, humming happily to myself. Bella looked up at me with her big brown eyes. She gave a small, contented wag of her tail before putting her head back down and slipping off to sleep again. I watched her for a few minutes, her paws twitched slightly, chasing whatever it was that she was chasing in her dream.

Back in my bedroom I laid the towel down. I hadn’t even thought to cover myself up on my way from the bathroom. Modesty wasn’t something that I paid all that much heed to in those days. Partly because I didn’t expect to see anyone up at that time of day but also partly because this was my house, my family and I was safe here. I was as yet unaware of the dark undercurrent simmering beneath the surface of this seemingly perfect family, blissfully unaware of that demon who was watching me, lying in wait, biding his time to strike at his prey.

Sliding my drawer open, my hands came to rest of the delicate pink silk of a matching set of underwear. After slipping into those, I flung open my wardrobe door. Thumbing through the rails, I decided to pick out a pair of slim fit jeans and a blue crop top.

Once dressed, I did that morning exactly what I would do most mornings. Pull out a sketch pad from my drawer, climb back onto my bed, sitting cross legged with the sketch pad on my lap and pencil in my hand and just create whatever wonderful scene my mind could come up with.

Do you know the very strange thing, however? I can remember just about every little detail of that day, every small event, every sight, every sound, but the one thing I can’t remember is what I drew. That may sound insignificant to you, but it was to be the last time that I ever did that, the last time that I would ever have a mind so carefree that I could just flitter away my time, letting my mind freely wander while taking part in such a delightful pastime.

A couple of hours would have passed in that way before I put the pad and pencil down. I headed downstairs to get a quick breakfast before leaving the house to meet my best friend, Lela. I vividly remember Bella following me downstairs, her breath warm on the back of my legs.

By the time I got to the kitchen, there was a faint smell of burnt toast in the air but Mum and Dad had already left for work. Mum was a nurse at the local clinic and my Dad owned the garage in town. The only other person in the room was Lars, my twin brother. He was sat at the dining table with a glass of orange juice, flicking through the pages of the latest issue of the computing magazine he bought every month.

I remember the look he gave me that morning, glancing up from his reading. It was unusual, cold is the only word I can think of to describe it now, although at the time I paid it no real attention to the hidden message behind those eyes.

As I said, this was unusual. He would normally be far more downcast and cowed when I was around him. There was a pang of irritation in the back of my head and my fists clenched, how has he got the cheek to look at me?

“What do you think you’re looking at? Like what you see, do you?” I snarled those words at him, spat them with an icy venom. Smoothing my close, formfitting top down over my body to accentuate my curves, I continued, “Keep your eyes to yourself, you pervy little freak!”

There was a time when Lars and I were as close as twins can be, we were inseparable. But as we grew older, we drifted apart. That’s reasonably natural for most siblings, I think. It happens as they find their own way in the World. But things with us were different. At the time I didn’t realise quite how toxic our relationship had become.

I do need to admit to you that more than a small part of that was my fault. I wasn’t quite the sweet, little angel that I’ve painted myself out to be so far. As in time, you’ll come to find out.

I had bullied Lars mercilessly. Said and did things that no sister should ever have inflicted upon her brother. When I think back on that time, I’d like to be able to say that I can’t believe that I was capable of the cruel things that I put him through. However, I know all too well now that I am capable of those things and far worse.

At the time I thought nothing of it. He was my weird, nerdy twin brother, and I was one of the cool girls, part of the popular crowd. I was pretty and I was popular, he was scruffy and spotty with very few friends. When I was out socialising and partying, he’d be sat on his own in his bedroom, doing whatever he did up there. He was nothing like me and back then I looked down on him for it, saw myself as so superior.

So, when the other kids at school started to pick on him, I joined in. No, that’s not entirely true, I didn’t just join in. More often than not, I was the ringleader.

I had no idea then the sort of damage I was doing and where my actions would lead.

I said earlier that the 14th of May 1990 was the day in which that terrible sequence of events that would cause my life to spiral so disastrously out of control and ultimately cause me to lose everything, began.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

I’d already planted the seeds for those events myself, toppled that first domino a few years earlier.