From the Darkest Night to the Brightest Day

By Deirdre O'Brien

Facing an unthinkable crime, especially against a child, ignites a primal urge for vengeance. This book gives a voice to those often silenced: the unseen victims of violence. Through their narratives, including that of the child, it delves into the profound impact of such crimes, illustrating the widespread ripples of suffering they create.

Despite the darkness, it’s a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, showcasing how hope, love, and a sense of community can triumph over the deepest despair. This story is not just about survival; it’s a celebration of enduring love and the strength of familial bonds, even among neighbours.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Apr 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9781035858491

Deirdre O'Brien

Deirdre was born in Kilmallock, a county town in Co. Limerick, Ireland. She is the youngest of 11 in a great family. Her father was the local blacksmith and her mother was an angel. She has lived and worked in multiple cities around Europe but she went back to her hometown 15 years ago, where she lives happily close to her family.

Book preview

I Don’t Know How to Tell

My Mam

Jane

I don’t know how to tell her, and I need to, I really do.

It is not that I can’t find the words, it is not that I can’t, I just don’t know how!!!

You see I’m not here, I mean, I’m not there, I mean, I’m … well, I am dead. I am 11 years old and I am dead. Imagine that: 11 year old and dead.

I was killed last week.

And you see, I am her only girl, I am the only little girl she had. I am the only one, there is no brother, there is no other. And my dad, well, he’s here with me.

I was killed in the way no one wants to hear a little girl was killed …

My name is Jane and I am 11 years old and last week I was murdered.

It is hard to talk about the things he did to me, but my mam is the reason I’m speaking to you now.

You see when she found out IT happened, she was out looking for me.

The guards picked her up from the road.

They took her to the police station (I was there too, I am always there, with her, I mean).

When they, so gently, and as kindly as they could, told her, she didn’t speak. Not a word.

Tears ran down her cheeks but she made no noise.

I thought she was going to die there and then.

The pain in her heart was so real.

I really thought she would die of pain.

But I am getting distracted.

I don’t want to take too much of your time, so I need to get to the point.

When IT happened, my mum wanted to know every detail.

What he did: How many times he did it?

How long it went on for?

How I would have felt?

How I suffered?

And so much more …

When they let her see me, she wanted to see every part of me. Every bruise, every wound, every bit of me.

You see, I know she wanted to find some part of me that wasn’t hurt, that wasn’t damaged by him.

But TG the guard wouldn’t let her. You see, in reality she hardly recognised me, there was no part unmarked, at least, she was spared knowing that.

Now the problem is she is still there. She is in IT, all the time.

She doesn’t sleep well and she hardly eats, and the pain in her heart is swelling day by day.

So, I need to tell her, I need her to know that I am not there. I am wonderful, I am saved.

I don’t know how to explain it, but when I passed over, it was like going from the darkest night to the brightest day.

I was cold, so cold, and wet with blood and stuff, then suddenly I was dry, the shinning was warm, like the sun, beaming all the way into my bones, it was like the warmth of a big fluffy warm towel when you come out of the sea.

And Patches, my dog, was there, in my arms, licking me with delight, but I don’t exactly have arms here. It is more like Patches is in me and I am in him.

I don’t know how to explain it, and my daddy, oh, it is like he swooped me up into paradise, into happiness, love and warmth. We are