“This is my sixth day at college. So far I’ve learned a lot.
I’ve learned not to look bothered if a boy talks to you or smiles at you.
I’ve learned to make my voice rise at the end of some of my sentences.
I know how to use a computer, just about, and how to check my emails and Facebook in the college IT room.
I know who Cheryl Cole is, and all the characters from Glee.
I know the people here are probably not my BFFLs.
I know never to speak a single word I hear in the vicarage.
I know that I’ve got to lie every day and that I can never invite any of my new friends home.”
Oh, Hepzi. You reached out for a normal life, you were so brave, but it was all for naught.
Rebecca was left all alone, in that terrible situation, hoping that she would get away one day but not knowing how. She missed you so much. You were very different, you didn’t always get on, but you loved and understood each other is a way that only sisters can.
What the Father and the Mother did to the two of you was terrible. More than terrible, but I have no better word. Some things are beyond words.
I was horrified that nobody seemed to notice anything, but I also understood why you felt that you couldn’t speak out, and why many people would find it difficult to believe such things of a man in the Father’s position.
That you both believed that you would escape, that somehow things would get better is a wonderful testament to the human spirit.
The accounts that you both wrote were so honest, so heartfelt, and so very moving.
I felt I knew you both. I cared about you both. I saw the world through your eyes.
I hope that you can understand the things that Rebecca did after you were gone. They were extraordinary, but I really feel that she had she had no choice.
I have no more words, and I really should let your stories speak
They were written for your contemporaries, but they could engage a much wider audience.
Thank you both, for telling them.