Merry New Year!

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HAPPY New Year.

Don’t care Kaya.

Dear 2013.

You sucked.

Between your twerking and your ‘Number 1 Song’, which was borderline rapey, what is history going to make of you? So fuck you.

Here are some New Years Resolutions I made for you:

-Give Miley Cyrus a mental breakdown. Or make her recover. But a breakdown would be funnier.

-Fix my Delirium. Please, it’s going to kill me if it doesn’t happen.

-I want inner peace. Or a piece of cake. Which is essentially the same thing.

-Can I finish the prep for my story? Pleaaaaase?

Okay, that’s about it.

Okay…It’s now midnight, and as it turns out, for the first time in my life, someone’s kissed me on New Years Eve.

Wait what? Cat, what is a boy doing in your room late at night? Wait…

Gotta go! Have a wonderful year!

Underwear

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Here is what I know about airplanes.

Not a lot, which is ironic, considering my father’s a pilot.

I do know a lot about how the service goes though. Your flight attendants will remember your name if you’re in Business. Or staff travel. If you get seated at the back of the plane, you get served last. Everyone in Economy class needs to go to the toilet. And for some reason, in my family, it’s an unwritten rule that if there is one place in Business class, adults get it.

Which is why my brother and I ended up in the very back seats of the plane.

“You should’ve kept lying,” Tigger complained.

Just to annoy her, we decided to tell the flight attendant that our mother was under strict orders from our doctor to not drink alcohol. Then I felt bad and told her the truth. Then I wished we had kept lying, after we got our meals an hour after everyone else.

Fortunately, it was a long haul flight, so we got to watch television and movies. And whoever was meant to sit between us didn’t show up.

Meaning Daniel had somewhere to sit too.

He groaned. “Why are we watching this?!” he whined, when I put on What Maisie Knew.

“Because I like drama and psychology.”

“But it’s boring! It’s about a kid whose parents get divorced.”

I shook my head. “We’ll watch NCIS after, alright?”

“Good.”

What Maisie Knew was anything but boring in my opinion. Even Daniel liked it, though he fell asleep halfway though. While watching NCIS, the flight attendant asked if my brother was alright.

Which was when he threw up, vomit splattering his seat and the one next to him.

I was very thankful that I had not chosen to sit in the seat next to him, choosing the seat closest to the aisle so I wouldn’t have to do the climbing over to go to the bathroom. Which happened a lot, because it was better that no one watched me during my psychotic episodes.

Fineeee, they’re hallucinations. Happy Daniel?

Speaking of Happy Daniel…

Happy Daniel vanished pretty quickly.

Remember where he was sitting during the flight?

That’s right…

The look on Daniel’s face when Tigger vomited was hilarious. His eyes widened and he stopped breathing for a while. “What…the….FUCK?!” he shrieked.

I quickly got out of my seat and dragged him to the bathroom, leaving the flight attendants to take care of my poor brother.

“Whyyyyyyyyy?” Daniel was crying out. “What did I do to deserve this…”

“Just clean yourself up,” I told him.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“To make sure you don’t stink of vomit,” I answered. I looked him over. Daniel had received the full wrath of my brother’s stomach, vomit splattered all over his clothes. “You don’t happen to have spare clothes do you?” I asked.

He shook his head. I wiped away the vomit, but they still stunk. They needed washing…badly.

My brother could be sprayed with disinfectants and scents so he wouldn’t disturb the other passengers too much. No one would care about Daniel- they didn’t even know he existed- because he would only disturb me.

“Take off your clothes.”

The look he gave me rivalled the one he had when my brother blew chunks. “Wait, whaaaaaat?

“They stink,” I said.

“Hold on.” Daniel raised his hands up. “Did you just ask me to take off my clothes?”

I shut my eyes. “Yes. I’m not putting up with your smell for the rest of the flight. Only I can see you, so take off everything that has vomit on it.”

“Okay. It’s just-”

“I don’t want to know what you’re thinking, Daniel!”

Daniel came out after my brother and I had returned to our seats. He sat next to me, grumbling, wearing only his boxer shorts. “I feel violated,” he said.

I checked to see if my brother was asleep. “How so?”

“I’m half naked! In front of a hundred people!”

“They can’t see you Daniel.”

“But you can!”

“Argh…”

Two more hours later, we were getting off the plane. “Can I put my clothes back on?” Daniel asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Or….” Daniel had a huge smile on his face.

I looked at him in horror. “No!”

“Cat, how often are you going to see this!”

“Fuuck.”

So Daniel decided to walk through the airport in his underwear. And no one noticed except for me.

“You are not my friend,” I told him.

He laughed. “That’s not up to you.”

Underwear

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Here is what I know about airplanes.

Not a lot, which is ironic, considering my father’s a pilot.

I do know a lot about how the service goes though. Your flight attendants will remember your name if you’re in Business. Or staff travel. If you get seated at the back of the plane, you get served last. Everyone in Economy class needs to go to the toilet. And for some reason, in my family, it’s an unwritten rule that if there is one place in Business class, adults get it.

Which is why my brother and I ended up in the very back seats of the plane.

“You should’ve kept lying,” Tigger complained.

Just to annoy her, we decided to tell the flight attendant that our mother was under strict orders from our doctor to not drink alcohol. Then I felt bad and told her the truth. Then I wished we had kept lying, after we got our meals an hour after everyone else.

Fortunately, it was a long haul flight, so we got to watch television and movies. And whoever was meant to sit between us didn’t show up.

Meaning Daniel had somewhere to sit too.

He groaned. “Why are we watching this?!” he whined, when I put on What Maisie Knew.

“Because I like drama and psychology.”

“But it’s boring! It’s about a kid whose parents get divorced.”

I shook my head. “We’ll watch NCIS after, alright?”

“Good.”

What Maisie Knew was anything but boring in my opinion. Even Daniel liked it, though he fell asleep halfway though. While watching NCIS, the flight attendant asked if my brother was alright.

Which was when he threw up, vomit splattering his seat and the one next to him.

I was very thankful that I had not chosen to sit in the seat next to him, choosing the seat closest to the aisle so I wouldn’t have to do the climbing over to go to the bathroom. Which happened a lot, because it was better that no one watched me during my psychotic episodes.

Fineeee, they’re hallucinations. Happy Daniel?

Speaking of Happy Daniel…

Happy Daniel vanished pretty quickly.

Remember where he was sitting during the flight?

That’s right…

The look on Daniel’s face when Tigger vomited was hilarious. His eyes widened and he stopped breathing for a while. “What…the….FUCK?!” he shrieked.

I quickly got out of my seat and dragged him to the bathroom, leaving the flight attendants to take care of my poor brother.

“Whyyyyyyyyy?” Daniel was crying out. “What did I do to deserve this…”

“Just clean yourself up,” I told him.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“To make sure you don’t stink of vomit,” I answered. I looked him over. Daniel had received the full wrath of my brother’s stomach, vomit splattered all over his clothes. “You don’t happen to have spare clothes do you?” I asked.

He shook his head. I wiped away the vomit, but they still stunk. They needed washing…badly.

My brother could be sprayed with disinfectants and scents so he wouldn’t disturb the other passengers too much. No one would care about Daniel- they didn’t even know he existed- because he would only disturb me.

“Take off your clothes.”

The look he gave me rivalled the one he had when my brother blew chunks. “Wait, whaaaaaat?

“They stink,” I said.

“Hold on.” Daniel raised his hands up. “Did you just ask me to take off my clothes?”

I shut my eyes. “Yes. I’m not putting up with your smell for the rest of the flight. Only I can see you, so take off everything that has vomit on it.”

“Okay. It’s just-”

“I don’t want to know what you’re thinking, Daniel!”

Daniel came out after my brother and I had returned to our seats. He sat next to me, grumbling, wearing only his boxer shorts. “I feel violated,” he said.

I checked to see if my brother was asleep. “How so?”

“I’m half naked! In front of a hundred people!”

“They can’t see you Daniel.”

“But you can!”

“Argh…”

Two more hours later, we were getting off the plane. “Can I put my clothes back on?” Daniel asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Or….” Daniel had a huge smile on his face.

I looked at him in horror. “No!”

“Cat, how often are you going to see this!”

“Fuuck.”

So Daniel decided to walk through the airport in his underwear. And no one noticed except for me.

“You are not my friend,” I told him.

He laughed. “That’s not up to you.”

Daniel at the Airport

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“Daniel!” I hissed.

He popped up beside me, even though he was also across the airport from me. “What? What happened?”

I pointed at his doppelgänger. “That’s what happened.”

He just frowned. “What do you mean?”

I stare at him. “The resemblance, Daniel. Look at the resemblance.”

He looks over at the man. “Edward Scissorhands?”

“No, you!

His eyes widen. “My hair does not look like that.”

“Oh yes it does.”

He squints. “In that case, give me your hairbrush.”

“I’ll fix your hair on the plane,” I promise. “But how can you have a doppelgänger?”

“Apparently there’s seven people in the world who look like you,” Daniel says mildly. “Or at least very similar. Cat, look at the eyes, they’re not green. See? He doesn’t look a thing like me,” he says, trying to flatten his hair with his hand.

“Really?” I say. “Those poor souls…”

“So there could be another six versions of me walking around in this world…” Daniel muses.

I frown. “But you’re not real.”

“You do have a point there,” he admits. Then he grins. “Or I might be real.”

“Then why can only I see you?”

“Do you really want to get into this Cat?” he says exasperatedly.

“Fair point.”

“Imagine it…seven other Cat Madigans…”

“They wouldn’t look exactly like me,” I point out. “Just similar.” I grimace. “Maybe they’re Cat Madigans without crappy skin and fat bellies.”

“You. Are not. Fat,” Daniel growls.

Our flight home is now ready….finally.

“You’re probably the most attractive version of yourself,” Daniel tells me. “And don’t you forget it.”

“In that case, I am so sorry for those poor people, someone should create a charity for them.”

“Shut up and brush my hair!”

“No.”

Merry Christmas Humans!

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And aliens, zombies, dragons and other strange and lovely creatures. Except vampires. YOU SUCK CULLENS!

I’m off to a strange place where my grandmother, also known as The Dragon, survives on children’s pain. In other words, THERE’S NO WIFI.

So have a merry Christmas, and a happy new year…which will be easy, because this year sucked.

Cat Madigan.

The F@ck You List

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Hello humanity!

Merry fucking Christmas!

Okay…now that I’m out of my cave of depression and chocolate, time for my first Christmas speech.

No I don’t care that it’s three days early. I want to write NOW.

Grrrr.

This is my first year writing this stuff. As some of you nonexistent readers may know, I had started this blog after I had attempted suicide, in order to get stuff out of my head. 

So. Nine days till the year ends.

How do you celebrate the end of a year that has been absolutely shit?

I present….the Fuck You List. It’s exactly what is sounds like.

So fuck you:

1- Brain. Thanks to you, I have scars on my hands, scars on my leg, a horrible sense of what is reality, and two imaginary friends.

2- Flash. You gave me hope and then you took it away. We’re friends, I’m guessing, but I’m not going to be so stupid as to trust you. Not as much as I did anyway.

3- Daniel. Fuck you for following me when I ran away, and continuing to piss me off ever since.

4- Benedict Cumberbatch, for ruining my expectations of men.

5- Mum, for your moodswings and violent outbursts.

6- Dad, for trying to drag me out of my room by my hair an hour ago. Never. Drag. Me. Out. By. My. Mother. Fudging. Hair.

7- Kaya, for not taking over and scratching my father’s eyes out an hour ago. Also, where the hell have you been for the last six months? Thanks to you, I’m suicidal, depressed, anxious, oh, did I mention Flash dumped me because of the hallucinations you gave me? Fuck you Kaya.

8- Queen Paris-ite. I do have friends. They are awesome, funny, and have more brain cells than you. And for your sake, we won’t start on my hair.

9- Slenderman, for causing me to laugh during Mass, you seedy bastard. And for those who want to know why, think about how this could be interpreted: Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come agaaaaaaain. Don’t you have anything better to do than make me go red in the face from laughing? Also, apologies to those seedy nonexistent people who read that and understood the other meaning, and if you never take Mass seriously again, it’s my fault.

10- Papa Willis’ ex girlfriend. Not only did you hurt him, but you hurt me and Batman. Noone is perfect, especially not us. That definitely does not mean we are horrible people.

11- Doctor Who. I’m going to be borderline inconsolable at Christmas. I LOVE YOU MATT SMITH!

12- Sherlock. And you know why.

13- Steven Moffat. DISHONOUR ON YOU, DISHONOUR ON YOUR COW.

14- BBC in general. 

15- James Bond, for not going gay. 

16- Disney.

17- Happy singing people.

18- Cheerfulness.

19- 500 Miles, by The Proclaimers. AND YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHY.

20- Mathematics.

21- Depression.

22- Anxiety.

23- Cutting. You do not help. In the slightest. I know that now.

24- Sickness. Seriously, my brain’s already out of whack, this is not an invitation to have fun too, immune system. 

25- Game of Thrones. I knew about the Red Wedding, BUT THAT DOES NOT MAKE IT OKAY. 

Argh…There’s so many more things I want to say fuck you to…tell you what, I’ll continue this again when Internet has returned.

Cat Madigan

Kaya and Cat?

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Why does Reality hurt me more than Delirium?

It seems like a simple matter of logic. Delirium doesn’t actually hurt me in Reality, where I receive comfort from my friends and ‘family’. Whereas if I’m hurt in Reality, I receive little comfort in Delirium, if any at all. Daniel…for some reason Daniel doesn’t really count as something from Delirium. He’s closer to human than…them. But at the same time, he’s not from Reality either; I am the only one who sees him.

So yesterday, Flash broke up with me.

He said he was always worrying about me, and that left little room for romantic feelings.

In other words, he couldn’t handle my Delirium.

And I don’t blame him.

It’s just I feel like whatever hope that I had is now gone. Before, I had a firm idea of who I would hurt if I had gone. Now I’m not so sure.

But when he did so, it unintentionally brought to light something in myself that I had probably been aware of for some time, but had never put together the pieces.

There’s reasons why there are times I can’t remember things. Why there are sometimes blank places in my memory.

And yesterday, Papa Willis, Smith and Chase had the not so pleasurable experience of meeting her.

And when I say her, I mean her.

I may have another personality. I can feel her now, in the back of my mind. She’s not always there though, but I know when she is. She talks to me like Daniel does, only I can’t see her. Why I am only connecting the dots now is a mystery to me, but it makes sense. Somewhat.

Sometimes when I went into Delirium, I reawoke to find myself in a completely different place, and I had little memory of doing anything. Say school for example. Now I think about it, it happened whenever I was feeling scared or vulnerable or hurt. When something bad happened in Reality, I’d go into Delirium.

But someone had to protect my body.

And that’s Kaya.

Kaya had a talk to Chase yesterday. I don’t know everything they talked about, but I’m working on it. To respect him, I’m not going to say stuff on here. He’s a good person.

So I had gone into Delirium, and I was extremely reluctant to come back to Reality.

Of course, Delirium is not so much better than Reality. I did a lot of running. Fire hurts a lot.

Water is strange in Delirium. You can cup it in your hand and blow it away like a cloud of dust. It’s somewhat peaceful to do that.

Then I heard a voice. One I didn’t think I’d hear again.

And I yelled at her. She was meant to be dead, I saw her die. And she wanted me to come back to Reality.

After a big fight, she agreed to leave me alone.

When I calmed down, I didn’t come back completely. I just snoozed a little, and then I realised my body was still active.

“Kaya!” I yelled.

It feels weird, feeling your body move and yet have no control over what’s happening. It’s as if you’re in someone else’s head, wearing their skin.

Speaking of skin…there were bite marks on my hands, scratches too. “Kaya…”

So now you want to return. Make up your mind.

“Let me back. Now.”

She smiled. Well, I smiled. It’s weird, okay?! And I came back.

And Kaya had gone.

She later came back and explained to me little things, basics of the conversation with Chase. Essentially, I figured Kaya wasn’t always in my head, but whenever I was in pain/feeling vulnerable/hurt in any way/etc, she’d take control of my body should I choose to spend too much time in Delirium.

So in a way, Delirium is a safe zone, for a lack of a better term. Or a reflex mechanism or some shit. And Kaya protects me in Reality when I go to Delirium.

Only trouble is, Delirium doesn’t come with its own protection, or reflex. I can’t always escape the pain there.

Kaya has firmly stated that she only controls me in very rare cases, but I’m still very wary. Kaya, from what I’ve heard from Daniel, and the reluctant witnesses in Reality, is very angry. Well, she can get very angry. So I worry about when she does control me, and what she says.

It’s uncomfortable having her in my head. It’s like a dull ache, one which I can’t get out with Panadol, or binge drinking on tea.

For the record, it’s irritating for me as well. I feel like I’m wearing itchy clothing.

There’s clothing in Delirium?

Of course there is, silly girl.

She’s not there much though. Now I can conclude that whenever I get headaches that don’t go away, it’s simply her. Why she refused to say anything till now, I don’t know. While it’s still on my mind, I need to test a theory I have. Next time she’s in my head, I’ll hit it against a wall to see if she goes.

I wonder if Daniel knew about this…

….fuck you brain.

Oh. Holidays. Yippeeeee!

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Nine days till Christmas.

I don’t like Christmas anymore.

It might have something to do with my depression and mental instability, but I don’t feel the same about it as I did when I was eight.

I guess it’s because I feel like Christmas should be a time for celebrating with family, which my family is somewhat allergic to.

My family goes to see extended family in Adelaide and Sydney during the Christmas holidays, so we can interact with relatives other than each other. Actually, I enjoy seeing my relatives in Sydney. Or at least my cousins. My grandparents in Sydney are pretty cool too, but they’re a bit old fashioned, and I haven’t seen them in two years. I’m just a little worried how they’ll act towards me, now that I’m the ‘bad child’. You know, because I ran away and I’m the child that constantly disobeys Mum.

Which is sort of ironic, when you consider the other child is a kleptomaniac and a pathological liar.

Now I think of it, I really should’ve changed the names of Adelaide and Sydney.

Oh well. Stuff it. Come and get me, serial killers!

My favourite cousin is known as Bitchy Mitchy, who will most likely murder me after he sees what I’ve named him.

Fineeee, I’ll just call you Mitchy. Mitchy is awesome, he’s like an older brother, one that I do want. He’s a bigger nerd than I am; he got me hooked on Doctor Who, and I got him hooked on Game of Thrones.

Which may not be a good thing, but what the hey.

So I’ve been on holidays for more than a week now. How am I doing?

Well, not the best. Now that I’m on holidays, I don’t really eat much food. You see, Mum just gives me a sandwich when I go to school, but as long as I either buy something, or steal of my friends, then I’m fine. Otherwise, I get Delirious, and as a result, fall into Delirium. Well, that’s one theory anyways.

Now I’m on holidays. And I’m eating less because everyone else is eating everything in the kitchen.

It’s my own fault I suppose. My family eats at the same time every day. When I go to my grandparents in Adelaide, we have huge lunches and we eat them at the table as a family. But, thanks to the influence of a father who wants nothing to do with his family, my family don’t do this.

But they do have big lunches.

Which, consequentially, leaves me with little to eat. Mostly, I feed off apples. Or pop tarts. Or anything that my picky system will eat.

Ironically, everything my father and his parents love to eat consists of everything I hate to eat.

So, I’m hungry. And Delirious. And bored.

Now I want icecream…

Time to feed my Delirious brain. So here’s Question of the Day: What are you looking forward to in the holidays?

MAD HUNGRY CAT.

Oh. Holidays. Yippeeeee!

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Nine days till Christmas.

I don’t like Christmas anymore.

It might have something to do with my depression and mental instability, but I don’t feel the same about it as I did when I was eight.

I guess it’s because I feel like Christmas should be a time for celebrating with family, which my family is somewhat allergic to.

My family goes to see extended family in Adelaide and Sydney during the Christmas holidays, so we can interact with relatives other than each other. Actually, I enjoy seeing my relatives in Sydney. Or at least my cousins. My grandparents in Sydney are pretty cool too, but they’re a bit old fashioned, and I haven’t seen them in two years. I’m just a little worried how they’ll act towards me, now that I’m the ‘bad child’. You know, because I ran away and I’m the child that constantly disobeys Mum.

Which is sort of ironic, when you consider the other child is a kleptomaniac and a pathological liar.

Now I think of it, I really should’ve changed the names of Adelaide and Sydney.

Oh well. Stuff it. Come and get me, serial killers!

My favourite cousin is known as Bitchy Mitchy, who will most likely murder me after he sees what I’ve named him.

Fineeee, I’ll just call you Mitchy. Mitchy is awesome, he’s like an older brother, one that I do want. He’s a bigger nerd than I am; he got me hooked on Doctor Who, and I got him hooked on Game of Thrones.

Which may not be a good thing, but what the hey.

So I’ve been on holidays for more than a week now. How am I doing?

Well, not the best. Now that I’m on holidays, I don’t really eat much food. You see, Mum just gives me a sandwich when I go to school, but as long as I either buy something, or steal of my friends, then I’m fine. Otherwise, I get Delirious, and as a result, fall into Delirium. Well, that’s one theory anyways.

Now I’m on holidays. And I’m eating less because everyone else is eating everything in the kitchen.

It’s my own fault I suppose. My family eats at the same time every day. When I go to my grandparents in Adelaide, we have huge lunches and we eat them at the table as a family. But, thanks to the influence of a father who wants nothing to do with his family, my family don’t do this.

But they do have big lunches.

Which, consequentially, leaves me with little to eat. Mostly, I feed off apples. Or pop tarts. Or anything that my picky system will eat.

Ironically, everything my father and his parents love to eat consists of everything I hate to eat.

So, I’m hungry. And Delirious. And bored.

Now I want icecream…

Time to feed my Delirious brain. So here’s Question of the Day: What are you looking forward to in the holidays?

MAD HUNGRY CAT.

Letters On My Arm

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“Cat!”

I leap out of my head. “How long?” I pant.

Daniel shakes his head. “I’m not sure, I only just-”

“Where are they?” I look around, and I speak quickly. “I had a knife, they were coming at me, I, I think I got one…”

Daniel’s gone quiet. “Where is he?”

I point across from us. There’s a big heap of black on the ground, almost like slime. The knife is lying on top of it, black and red on it both. I can remember now; after I ran him through with the blade, the others got behind me. The knife was in him, I was too slow to take it out in time.

“What do you remember from Delirium?” Daniel asks.

I shake my head. “It’s a blur,” I say. “Which means nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened in Delirium,” Daniel says slowly. “But in Reality…” He shows me my bedroom. It’s a mess as usual, but if you look closely, you can see things. Things that were on my bed are now spilled over the floor. Shoes are in random places, no two matching shoes are together.

I open the window, and the mass of black is sucked out. Daniel and I watch it float away, into the world of Reality. After a while, he speaks to me. “Your hand…”

I look at them, and I see it; the red smudge on it, originating from one thin line across my finger. “How did-”

Then I remember again. A knife, no a sword, slashes at me, cutting my hand as I hold it out, as feeble protection. “How did it only get one finger?” I whisper. It’s one singular cut, two centimetres long at most. “Are they gone Daniel?”

He nods. He’s unusually silent, and I’m beginning to panic and wonder what on earth he’s thinking when I see the red marks on my arm.

F R E A K.

“No…”

“Cat…” Daniel warns.

“No!” I crumple. “I didn’t…I didn’t…”

“Listen Cat listen-”

“I promised!” I’m in tears. “I can’t…”

“Cat, they’re not cuts!”

“What?”

He holds my arm in front of me, and I flinch away. “Look Cat,” he whispers.

Reluctantly, I turn my head back. The letters are angry red, but they aren’t dripping. “Scratches, not cuts,” he says soothingly. “It’s not that bad.”

I give him a look. “I know,” he says, “it’s bad, but scratches fade, scratches don’t leave scars. You didn’t self harm.”

“Didn’t I?”

“Scratches don’t count.”

“What about beating yourself with a bar?” I retort. “That doesn’t scar either.”

His eyes are full of sorrow. They’re grey today, because my room is blue. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “You need rest.”

I lie down, and he sits next to me. “You could be doing this,” I say quietly. “You could’ve sent those things on me, and I wouldn’t know.”

He takes off his jacket and shows me his own arm. A gash is on his left index finger, bleeding softly. And lower, F R E A and K are on his arm as bright as blood.

“How many scars of mine do you have?” I whisper.

He shows me his leg, with lines running down it. He shows me the lash marks on my arms, from long ago. “There’s even older ones,” he tells me. “D’you want to go there?”

I shake my head. Mummy, I’m bleeding! Mummy, I’m bleeding! “Stop.”