I'm sat outside the library that's nestled in the high street between the primary and junior school waiting for it to open, I crept out before Dad woke up I didn't want to have a conversation first thing with him about where I was going. I felt like I've lied enough to him and the memory of last nights dream is still nagging in my mind.

Whitstable first thing in the morning is quite relaxing with the quaintness that comes with a seaside town, mothers walking their squabbling children to school, shops opening and displaying all their stock out front, the lollipop ladies stopping the traffic to get the very young and the very old across the road safely.

I sit on the bench that is positioned exactly in front of the library watching all this unfold before me, the odd person smiles or nods, occasionally says good morning as they walk by. I now see why Whitstable people are so loyal to their town and resent tourists that don't embrace or respect their home. This town is built on tradition, the comfort of knowing your neighbour and the unspoken knowledge of safety you can feel here.

My daydreaming is disturbed by the clanging and rattling of wheels screeching along the path, I can as always, hear them before I see them, The Feral Boys, they race and circle around not even trying to hide from me anymore. They screech to a halt in front of me, I can't help but laugh 'really are you going to follow me everywhere?' I thought to myself they'll be joining me in the toilet next. I sigh, "Is this still really necessary lads ?" none of them answer, "I'm sure I'm quite safe in the bloody library, the worst thing that can occur in there is a paper cut, so go on run back tell Bell and tell her I'm simply getting some books out, not a lot of trouble for one to get into in there".

The larger one shrugged and then in his gravely raspy voice replied, "Didn't know you could read" the others snigger under their breath.

I lean back stunned; I'd been sassed by Bell's dogs, these beastly boys struggle to hold a sentence usually, "I'm here just to look at the pictures" he raises his eyebrow as if this is a possibility, I growl under my breath "shouldn't you be going back to Bell now?" With that they cycle away still sniggering under their breaths the bunch of dicks, I hope they get knocked down while riding to tattle to Bell.

With being distracted by the feral boys I hadn't noticed the library had opened, as I walk in I suddenly realise I don't know where exactly I'm going to look up the words, where I'm to start.

I'm clutching my scrappy envelope tight in my hand as I walk up and down, do I look it up in the dictionary or go on the computer? Most teenagers my age would have a phone or iPad but we never had the money for things like that, it's never really bothered me, I didn't have anyone to ring anyway.

I must have looked lost walking up and down repeatedly, eyeing up the books but never actually picking one up. I finally walk up to the librarian's desk in my most pathetic voice that I save for when I'm trying to either get my own way or get someone to do something for me I squeak, "excuse me Miss, I have to look up some words for my homework could you please point me in the right direction".
She looks up from organising her pile of returned books, she's a petite mousey haired lady in her mid 30s with a pen shoved into her pony tail and a smudge of ink on her lip where she's been chewing on a biro.

She smiles at me "do you have a library card ?"

'Shit I didn't realise I'd need one,' I thought. "Sorry no" I turn to leave feeling irritated I've fallen at the first hurdle.

I hear her calling out, "Miss it's fine, it just means you can't take the books out" she grins a lopsided inky mouth grin then beckons me back over, I try not to look too pleased with myself, nobody is that pleased to get homework done.

"So miss, what are the words you need to research?" she inquires . I hand her my scribbled on envelope with the words from my dream. All of the words are on there except the one that was engraved into Dad's bleeding palm. She eyes them over then chuckles. "Well we won't have to look too hard to find out the meaning of these words, let me guess is this for your religious studies ?" I nod over excitedly agreeing with her as if I know what she is going on about.

"Well, these words are all from the Bible, the list of the most deadly mortal sins to be precise. The first word, Superbia, is the word for pride" I think of Bell, pride could mean her fall from God's grace because she wanted to be seen as Adams equal. Her pride is what gave her the courage of her conviction to stand firm in her beliefs but also the eternal punishment that cursed her.

"The second word Tristitia means despair, sorrow" Well, despair could fit my mum in so many different ways, the despair of being unloved by her mother, the despair of inheriting her mother's curse, the despair of having no choice but to sink to the lowest ebb of addiction and slowly killing herself to mute all her feelings to save me.

"The third word is probably the most racy , Luxuria means lust". Lust how the hell does that apply to the vicar? he's two steps away from the grave. If this dream is actually to mean something then he must have some secrets in his closet, I shrink a little but that would mean so does Dad after all his word was the worst of them all - murder.

I can see the librarian eyeing me up with a concerned glance, "are you ok Miss ?"

I quickly slap on my game face "oh yes, I'm fine, just all this talk of sins is enough to put the fear of God in you".

She chuckles. "Quite, but that was the point, you see the church wasn't once what it is now. We celebrate love, life but it used to be more about punishment and damnation".

I remember Bells memories, the sadness she carried, the pain she endured and for the first time I felt an overwhelming feeling of pity for Bell, for mum and all they endured. "Miss would you like to take notes ?"

I shake my head. "No thank you I have a really good memory".

As I leave Bell is sat on the very bench I was perched on only minutes ago, as always she looks poised and pristine not hair out of place . So her faithful dogs having been telling tales no surprise there .
"Waiting for me or are you here to return your borrowed copy of fifty shades of grey" I snigger.
She rolls her eyes trying to not look amused by my wonderful quick wit, I plonk myself very unladylike beside her "did you find what you was looking for Jane" I shrug as if I'm confused by her statement, she simply scoffs at me "please don't try and kid a kidder, let's both save our selfs the joy of the cat and mouse game that we've endured in the past, I hoped we was passed that now, that we are able to be honest with each other".

I owe her honesty, she had showed me her darkest of secrets, regardless if I wanted to see them or not she was honest with me.

"I came here because I needed to know what some words meant, they had came to me in a dream and I know this will seem crazy .... you know what it probably is but I can't shake the feeling that it was important like a warning or sign of some kind".
She quietly leans in "of course your crazy" I start to laugh, a little bit more at ease as sarcasm always relaxes me especially at the most inappropriate moments.

"So what was these words".

I pull out my envelope and read the words to her "In my dream you was there and you had Superbia on your palm, mum had Tristitia, the vicar had Luxuria and Dad had Murder ....see crazy" but Bell is no longer laughing her face has become ashen the colour your complexion becomes before you vomit. I can almost hear her mind ticking as it processes what I've said, in a flat reply she mutters "those are very old words Jane ,words I seldom ever hear anymore . I can imagine how you would see them being fitting for us".

"How could that be fitting for Dad" I fire back.

She isn't telling me something I can smell it wafting off her "This honesty business it has to work both ways Bell".

She stands up from her seat the sun catching the top of her head like a crown of light, she looks down at me still slumped on the bench "I think you need to talk to your Dad about that".

I shake my head "No Bell I'm talking to you about this ,what are you not telling me, whatever it is I can take it ,please Bell".

She reluctantly nods knowing I will not take no as answer "ok Jane but not here, let's go sit somewhere - I will tell you".

We quietly wander up the high street until we reach tea & times the quirky little cafe with colourful art with the most wonderful aroma of fresh coffee, inside is sat some of the mum after school drop off enjoying their first warm coffee of the day uninterrupted without the ongoing demands from their children, they are slowly unwinding like coiled springs from enduring the school run.

We go upstairs where there is fewer people and go sit by the window where you can see down below to the busy high street. Bell orders a strong tea and can of coke for me ; we nestle down to the beach wood table with mixed matched chairs and wait for our drinks to be brought up.

We sit opposite each other both not knowing how to start , the tension broken by the cheerful waitress bringing us our drinks which we both thank her for.

Bell coughs trying to clear her throat or delay speaking, I nervously twiddle with my straw that bobs up and down in my glass .

"Not everything is always as it seems, that includes people . A bad person can still do a kind gesture, a good person can make a bad choice".

I whisper so only she can hear "Which one is he? Is Dad a bad person who made a kind gestures or good person who made a bad decision".

She slowly sips her tea " He made a bad decision but for a long time I didn't see him like that".

Tears start to prick at my eyes but I will them desperately not to fall, if I cry she won't say anymore to protect me.

"Jane if I tell you , it will change how you see him. Do you really want that".

I pause for a second do I really need to know but I know only to well that I do, It would like a maggot wriggle deep inside my brain eating away at all my thoughts and for what ever reason my mind, my dreams have been leading me to this, so what choice do I have but to hear the very worst thing about the very best person I have in my life.

"Please just tell me" I whisper.

"That evening I was waiting for you at the train station I was not just waiting for you but also for him because I was going to kill him, a life for a life. I had been tracking you both for years, when I saw him him standing there I wanted to throw him on the the tracks and watch as his body get ripped to pieces by the train whilst I listen to him scream out in agony as he slowly died in front of me but I couldn't because I could see the love you had for him and the love he had for you. It radiated from you both and I couldn't do it, I could see how he was shielding you from me, how you clung to him and you had already lost your mother how could I then take your father from you".

I gasp as if the wind had been knocked out of me "why would you want to do that, why would you want to take his life".

"Because he took my daughters life, he gave her the last hit of heroin that killed her".

I snarl "that's not true Dad never touched drugs".

"It is Jane, she was ill she had been ill for a very long time but she had been trying to clean herself up, give up the drugs but her body was shutting down from the detox, she was hurting so very badly - when you go cold turkey the body aches to the very bones while you fill like hundreds of bugs crawl over your skin, she asked him to score for her she promised it was her last time and it was. He didn't intend to kill her but he did . I hated him for so long I promised myself I would find him and I would kill him, I would find you and bring you home, it consumed my every thought it was all I lived for - all that I could think about. I spoke to every homeless person, every junkie but he disappeared with you , then after years of searching I get tip off that you had both been seen".

Tears stream down my face and roll down my chin to drip on to the table but not one single noise slips from my mouth.

"He loved her and he was watching her in pain... I see that now, he naively believed he was some how helping her by stopping her pain but all he did was feed her demon one last time" Bell sobs out her words, it's hurting her to say this as much as it's hurting me to hear it

"He didn't brake her she was already broken , it was just easier for me to hate him than accept my part in her destruction. He is a good man who made a bad decision".

I shoot up and bolt for the stairs I fill the gurgling sensation bubbling away in my stomach. I run for the door and once on the street dart down the side alley where I vomit uncontrollably until my throat burns, I hear gasps as passers by as they rush by. I wipe my mouth on my sleeve then slide down the wall trying avoid the stream of sick swimming down the path .
Bell silently appears she passes me a tissue from her handbag .

"That why when we wanted to leave you told him to persuade me to stay because he knew you knew".

She nods pathetically at me "I was desperate I couldn't loose you".

I start to scream not giving two shits who might hear me and caring very little for lowering my voice "So all these years he has looked after me it's because of some sick guilt not because he loved me or cared for me but because he was trying to sooth his conscience for what he did to her, to make some kinds of amends".

Bell shakes her head "No that's not how it is , he loves you more than you will ever realise, He came here for you to give you the best chance. He could have walked away but he never did".

I hiss at her "am I to be grateful".

Bell reaches out to hold me but I wriggle away, from here I can see the sign off the pub blowing in the wind he probably is in there changing a barrel, getting ready to open up with not a care in the world while I stand here in this piss stenched alley with vomit in my hair and my world destroyed knowing the one person I loved, trusted in this whole world never really existed.

I barge pass Bell and run towards the pub darting in out of people who are slowly mooching their way in town, I can only see the sign it's pulling me closer like a magnet that I can't fight the pull, getting stronger as I get nearer until Im banging on the locked pub door shaking the glass pained with my clenched fists. As dad swings opens the door I fall in right on top of him, he grabs me as I lay sobbing in his arms my ragged breath make it impossible for me to get my words out, in that moment I can see it etched on his face - in every wrinkle, on his borrowed brows, in the crinkles in his slight crow feet that spider out at the sides of his eyes - without me even saying a word he knows that I know .

He shouts to the barmaids to leave I hear them try to object scared of loosing a days pay or missing out on the drama, he sits me on the bar stool then grabs a dirty glass from the table and launches it at the optics sending shatters of glass spraying every where, the mirror behind the bar cracking and distorting his face as he stares at his broken reflection, the barmaids cower, some start to cry as they scuttle out grabbing their purses on the way, mumbling and muttering that he's a nutter and lost the plot.

As the last one leaves he goes to shut the door - to shut out prying eyes but Bell puts her foot in the door frame stopping the door in its tracks. She walks in eyeing up the destruction of her beloved pub .