Jessica Turner�s early childhood years were heavenly. Her father was the chairman and founder of the world-renowned conglomerate Turner Enterprises and her mother, was an interior decorator with a flair for colour and a penchant for style.

Jessica�s father was a very handsome man, with rugged looks and a warm smile. He was a very caring father, the sort who was very adamant about the family spending quality time with one another. Mr. Turner was a prominent community figure, well-respected for both his work at Turner Enterprises and with local charities.

From day one, Jessica was the apple of her father�s eye. Occasionally, he�d bring her along to luncheons and the odd board meeting, flaunting her shamelessly in front of his friends. Always the most popular, the prettiest and the smartest in her class, in his eyes Jessica could do no wrong. Jessica worshipped her father, the awe and wonderment evident in her eyes. At her young impressionable age, she put him on a pedestal, secretly fostering aspirations of becoming just like him one day.

At the age of eight however, Jessica�s picture-perfect life came crashing down upon her. In a split second, her world as she knew it changed so drastically that she knew it would never be the same again.

It happened the day she found her sobbing mother lying in bed, her face buried in the pillows. She learned from her distraught, wild-eyed mother that her father had left them. He�d gone to live with a woman named Miranda, his personal secretary with whom he had been having an affair for months now. There was no further explanation, no consoling words, not even a comforting hug from her mother.

For weeks, a cloud of gloom engulfed the house. Every morning Jessica would awake from her fitful sleep, her face and shirt stained with tears. It was the same horrible dream that plagued her every time. It was the terrifying image of her father�s angry face. He would rant and rave at her, verbally abusing her for all her shortcomings and wrongdoings.

Despite these haunting images, Jessica would recite her prayers every night without fail, beseeching the higher powers to bring her father back to her. It soon became part of her daily routine but finally after a year, she gave up.

Jessica quickly became a recluse, retiring to her room for hours on end. Alone in the safety of her room, she would sit cradling an overstuffed battered teddy bear that her father had given her. This, along with a few other trinkets was all she had left of her father.

Jessica suffered silently for almost another full year. By the time she was ten, her grades had dropped considerably, the spark in her eyes was gone and she had lost all her friends.

Meanwhile, her mother had found other ways to assuage her pain. She had resorted to alcohol, drowning her sorrows with the bottle daily.

Jessica had learned quickly of her mother�s alcoholism and tried her best to stay out of her way. Her mother transformed into a raving lunatic, one that Jessica was afraid of whenever she was under the influence.

Try as she may, Jessica couldn�t always stay away from her mother. It was those times when she couldn�t hide fast enough or run fast enough, that she learned the harsh reality of life.

After her drinking binges, her mother would come home disoriented and angry, searching for a way to vent her anger. The only means she ever found was a small, helpless, innocent child. A child who had no one to turn to and no one to trust.

Jessica�s mother would beat her relentlessly, often at times waking the sleeping child from her bed. Fists would fly and pummel at her tiny body from all directions. Jessica soon learned that crying wouldn�t help her. Tears just fuelled her mother with more anger and the punches and blows would become harder.

Day after day, the beatings continued. The children and teachers at school no longer questioned Jessica�s bruises. Every time she was asked, it was a different story � she fell down the stairs, walked into a door, slipped in the bathtub. No one ever pursued the matter for fear of being ostracised by the community for even questioning a member of the Turner family.

Her mother�s attacks soon became second nature to her and Jessica no longer ran, no longer hid for she knew her mother would always find her. She was secretly grateful on days when she found her mother in such a stupor that she was unable to move.

Jessica also stopped praying. In the beginning, she would pray to God begging and pleading with him to have mercy on her. That hadn�t worked so she had stopped quickly. In her mind, there was no God.

Looking into Jessica�s eyes, it was as if something had died. Something had. It was her spirit that was gone and as Jessica grew older, she began wishing that she herself had died along with it.