Abbey Harrison was going to die.

It was something of a comfort for her because if things got bad, she always had death to fall back on. And with that thought, Abbey could do whatever she wanted because she had death in the back of her mind. She could die, that was her choice, that was in her control. Perhaps those thoughts were a little twisted for someone as young as Abbey, but it never seemed to be an issue. Not with her, anyway.

Her parents were both very young when Abbey came along.

They were only eighteen, her mother was seventeen.

Quickly, they had to get married before Abbey was born but they were both so happy when their first child came into the world. She had dark hair, light eyes and was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. Abbey was very quiet too, even as a toddler. She was reserved, didn't play with the other children and would get upset if things were too loud. Her mother tried to include her into birthday parties, the church fairs but Abbey would fall apart because it was too chaotic for her.

She wasn't a clingy child.

Abbey rarely hugged her parents and didn't start stringing sentences together until the age of five. Her parents took her to see the doctors, who told them;

"she's slow, give her time".

Mathew and Helen loved their daughter all the same.

But though Abbey couldn't talk, she was bright.

Her memory was outstanding, and she was very dedicated to finishing off a task. Though, Abbey soon grew obsessive traits. She only stuck with one toy, her parents had to follow a routine which the child had created and if that was broken, Abbey would lash out and scream. Her personality followed her into her teenage years, where things got more complicated.

As a child, it was easy to control Abbey's moods and her little quirks.

But as a teenager, they found it more and more difficult.

She had no friends because she found it difficult to make friends. And Abbey took a lot of days off school because nothing ever sat right with her. She'd either not speak for the whole day, or she'd yell at the teachers. For being so quiet, Abbey could seriously lash out when something went wrong.

Mathew and Helen soon grew extremely worried.

They didn't know what to do with their daughter.

But when war interrupted their lives, Abbey's problems were pushed to the back of their minds. Many children were evacuated from Liverpool during September in 1939. Over eight thousand children and school teachers were sent away to small villages and towns, in the English countryside, where they'd be safe from the bomb threats. But months went by, the Luftwaffe didn't attack Liverpool.

Out in their back garden, Mathew had made an Anderson shelter, a bomb shelter, where the family would run into once the alarms were sounded. If you didn't have your own shelter, then Liverpool offered many around the city centre. But it was always best to have one in your garden. They also developed rules, where after dark, all the lights had to be turned off and to prevent any light from shinning out of your windows, you'd put up black curtains.

It was a very stressful time for the families of Liverpool.

Helen had four children now.

Their other daughter Lucy and two sons, Harold and Peter.

Abbey found it very hard sometimes, her younger brothers were always loud, and her little sister never left her alone. Though, if things got too much, Abbey would hide away in the shelter and read her books. Peter was born in July 1940, so, he was still a new born and screamed constantly because he had colic.

During the day, they tried to live as normally as possible.

Mathew would work at his job as postman.

Helen would look after Peter and the older children would go to school.

Abbey still couldn't get on at school. She'd shout, the teachers would punish her.

She would come home with wrists as red as apples.

"This needs to stop". Mathew told her, "Abbey, you have to behave".

Abbey couldn't understand, she thought they were wrong.

"It's not my fault". She replied, "they don't understand, they mess everything up".

He crouched in front of her, "you're a good girl, Abbey. You're smart but you have issues that we don't understand".

And that's why Abbey was the way she was.

Because in this world, she was lost and confused.

Her head was all over the place, going one thousand miles per hour. And Abbey had to make sense of it all. She didn't understand herself, not really, so, therefor, she didn't understand other people. That got her into a lot of fights. If a kid from her class ever did talk with her, he might have been kidding her on, but Abbey didn't get it and she'd fight them.

So, not only were her wrists red but her eyes were black and blue.

Helen would get very upset.

Her two younger siblings started to avoid her.

And Peter still cried.

In August, the same year Peter was born, Liverpool was bombed.

The alarms went off, Mathew and Helen gathered their children and they ran out into the shelter. One hundred and sixty bombers attacked the city that night. And they didn't stop attacking for three days. There were fifty raids on the city over the next three months, the Luftwaffe compromised aircraft's, which lasted over ten hours. All year, they were bombed. Not every night but the worst one was on the 28th of November, when they bombed an air raid shelter in During Road causing one hundred and sixty-six fatalities. Churchill described it as the "single worst incident of war".

But the Christmas Blitz was by far the worst.

Helen and Mathew sent their children away into the country.

Abbey remained in Liverpool.

She couldn't go, she wouldn't have been able to handle change.

Three hundred and sixty-five people were killed between the 20th and the 21st of December.

A few teenagers from Abbey's school had died.

And when it ended, Liverpool wasn't the same city anymore.

Besides from London, they had the most raids.

Liverpool had the largest port on the west coast and played an import role to the British war effort. They were a high target for the Germans and Liverpool hated the Germans. The whole of Britain despised them. They had destroyed their houses, shops and businesses. And the young men were off out in the war, fighting and dying every day.

Abbey would walk along the streets, taking in all the destroyed buildings.

It was the first time in her life where she fully understood why families cried.

Many had died, innocent civilians.

It was tragic.

Their little two up and two down house on Madryn Street remained standing.

Abbey was transferred to a collage.

They hoped her behaviour would change, as she never fit in with secondary or primary school.

But it didn't.

The last time Liverpool was bombed was in January 1942.

So, everything went on as normal.

The classes were almost empty, however.

But Abbey still managed to get into trouble.

One day, her parents were called up to the professor's office.

Abbey was sitting outside, back pressed up against the chair.

There was a young man opposite her, who was crying and sniffling.

She tried to ignore him for a few minutes but eventually said;

"can you stop crying?"

The man covered his face, "my brother is dead".

Abbey asked him, "why?"

"The Krauts".

"Oh".

She looked down at her hands.

"I'm sorry".

The man continued to cry; Abbey didn't speak after.

When the door to the professor's office opened, Abbey was called inside.

Mathew had his arm around Helen, who was dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

"Take a seat, Harrison". The professor told her.

Abbey sat down next to her dad.

"We're sending you away".

Helen sniffed, "it's not your fault, Abbey".

"It's entirely her fault". The professor grunted, "she has been nothing but a disappointment to this college, Mrs Harrison. And dare I say it; you have obviously not given her much in the ways of discipline".

Mathew shook his head, "you're wrong, Martin".

The professor sighed, "your daughter is eighteen, Mr Harrison. And something needs to change. She is a bright girl, very intelligent but her behaviour is unacceptable. She will never get a job; she will live on the dole for the rest of her life. That's her future, if things do not change".

The professor clasped his hands together, looking down at the girl.

"As you know, I am close with our Prime minister. He respects my decisions and work a great deal. When he made the journey to Liverpool last week, we had a few words about this college and my studies. Naturally, you were brought up, Harrison. And you, child, should feel special enough for Churchill to even care a tiny amount, about a bad behaved teenager from Madryn Street".

Abbey blinked, face remaining impassive.

"You're going to train with the Yanks". He told her, "I cannot have you in my classes and Harrison, take this as a compliment, while I think of your future. Where you're going, they'll push you hard, get rid of all that bad behaviour and you'll return to your family as a changed person, I can assure you".

The meeting ended with Abbey running out of the collage.

She ran all the way to the docks.

Her dad eventually found her, after two hours of searching.

Abbey was standing on the railings, looking out towards the water.

"This will be good for you-"

"you think?"

Mathew nodded, standing next to her.

Seagulls were squawking and diving down onto the road, where someone had dropped their fish and chips. Mathew brought out his pipe and lit it up. He puffed it a few times, before leaning against the railings. Abbey remained quiet, while her mind tried to understand the situation.

So, what, if she fought in the war.

So, what, if she died.

Abbey just didn't want to move away and leave her comfort zone.

How could she cope in America?

"Imagine Churchill thinking about us". Mathew went on quietly, "he must really like old Martin, eh?"

Abbey, gripping onto the railings, pushed back a little.

She tilted her head up towards the sky, staring up at the clouds.

"You'll be alright, our kid". Mathew said, "you know how it feels, eh?"

"What?" She mumbled.

"You feel bad for those kids in your school, the families who lost everything".

Abby closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

"You'll be doing the world a favour".

She opened her eyes again and jumped down from the railings.

Mathew looked down at her, "I don't want to see you leave but I want you to be successful". He said to her, "I was on the dole, it was horrible. I could barely provide for you and your mum. I don't want that life for you, Abbey".

"I'll go". She told him, "but I might not come back".

He frowned, "don't say that to me, bug".

Abbey didn't say anything else.

Mathew tapped the tobacco out of his pipe, and they walked home.

In all honestly, Abbey wasn't sad to be leaving home.

But she would miss her mum.

That attachment she had with her mother; it was hard to imagine living without it. And Helen worried her daughter wouldn't cope because she certainly couldn't, but Mathew had sided with the professor, it was best for Abbey. She'd be in good hands as far as discipline went. And the army would give her three square meals a day and money.

Helen was two months pregnant when Abbey was packing for America.

She swore, this would be her last child.

Five was enough.

Abbey's only thought was; at least she wouldn't be hearing another baby cry.

And her dad thought she was joking when she told them that.

Mathew pulled her into a quick hug.

"Be good, Abbey". He whispered, "listen to them, alright?"

She wrapped one arm around him.

Abbey pulled back a few seconds later.

Helen kissed her daughter's cheek and hugged her tightly.

"I never wanted this".

She was crying.

"I'm sorry, Abbey".

When the hug broke apart, Abbey picked up her suitcase.

Everything was neatly folded up inside, it had taken her six hours to pack. She didn't bring a lot because she didn't have a lot, but everything had to be packed away correctly. She had packed and re-packed almost all night. Helen eventually came in and helped her, but it only made Abbey more frustrated.

They didn't have a good night.

And they didn't have a good morning.

But despite all that, Abbey was going.

She got inside the black taxi and lay her suitcase across her lap.

Helen, Mathew and her siblings waved her off.

Abbey gave the smallest of waves back, just before the cab drove off.

She'd get a plane from London and into America.

From there, the rest was history.