A mother wakes to a nightmare and is thrust into a race to save three lives.
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Rose thought she had it all, then she discovered her husband’s hidden life. The revelation crushed Rose, and the breakup shattered her family. Battling through heartbreak and betrayal, she thought the worst was behind her, but nothing could prepare Rose for what came next.
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In this raw and confronting story, we follow three years in Rose’s life. With a rare honesty, she reveals the painful emotions of a mother watching helplessly as her daughter battles a tormenting secret. It will push her to the edge, but just as the nightmare promises to end, Rose’s family is haunted by a new and more ominous threat. She must find the strength to face her demons and the courage to save the ones she loves.
Carbon Under Pressure is based on real events. Rose’s story is shocking, riveting and unforgettable, and what happened to her could happen to anyone.
Chapter 1
Waking Up
Sunday, 11.45pm
The gentle breath on my face and soft muffled whispers were surely a
dream. But I sensed a presence beside my bed, and as I stirred, the
whispers took form. They were words I will never forget: “Mum, I’m so
sorry, I can’t do this anymore. Please forgive me.”
All parents know the sudden wakefulness that strikes when one of
their children is suffering. From the moment we hear their first newborn
cry we are attuned to their needs, and even at sixteen Sophie’s words
shook me from my sleep.
“What’s the matter?” I asked as the faint shape of my daughter came
into focus.
“It’s okay Mum, go back to sleep.”
I could sense a heavy sadness in her voice and realised my face was wet
from her tears. As she backed away, my eyes adjusted to the hazy light
cast by a waning moon and I noticed there was a large dark patch on
the front of her white pyjama shirt. A disturbing unease swept over me.
Something was terribly wrong.
Then, like a phantom receding into the night, she turned and walked
out the door.
I crept quickly out of bed, careful not to wake Stuart, and followed
her to the lounge room. That’s where I found her; slumped on the
couch.
The dark patch on her shirt was blood. Shock struck me like a hammer
blow to the chest. I rushed to her side and lifted her shirt. Raw, deep
slashes marbled her abdomen and the tops of her legs. She tried weakly
to push me away, then I noticed the blood smeared on her hands and
arms and across the couch where she lay.
“What happened? What have you done?” I cried. My voice fired questions
before my eyes could comprehend what I was seeing.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she responded groggily.
“Have you taken something?” I looked up at her face, my eyes probing
for some clue, some answer to make sense of the scene before me.
There was no response.
“Sophie tell me…what have you done?”
Her eyes were closed and her skin was pale; her body now completely
limp.
Frantic, I ran to the kitchen for the first aid kit, the instinctive response
of a mother confronted with her child’s injuries. There on the bench was
an empty packet of sleeping pills. Oh no. She’s trying to kill herself!
I ran back to the lounge room and collapsed at her side, trying once
more to stir her. “How many pills have you taken?” My quivering hands
tried to find some sign of awareness, but there was still no movement.
Then I screamed.
Before that fateful night, I thought my life was complete. I’d left an
unhappy marriage and been rewarded with new love. I’d shrugged off
the judgement and disapproval of my family to forge life on my own
terms. I’d changed jobs and moved cities. I thought I’d learnt a lot about
myself. I thought I’d been brave. I thought the worst was behind me, but
nothing could prepare me for what was to come.