Count to Fifty



If I was human before, I wasn’t now. But I didn’t care.

My fingers clawed into her throat, looking for bones to snap. Her eyes were bulging, and she was screaming for her life, just like I was screaming for his.

Cat’s gone. No more mercy. There’s just Freak.


How I Got My Superpowers


I have a bit of explaining to do. Not just to my nonexistent readers, but probably to Daniel and Kaya and some of my friends as well.

As some of you have probably noted from some of my posts, I have become sort of immortal and sort of prone to setting things on fire. In my Delirium of course. It would be awesome to do that stuff in Reality, but unfortunately, that can’t happen. Dang.

Now I know the Daily Prompt Challenge is meant to be about how I became a writer. And I’ll do that. Tomorrow. I promise. But I got inspired by the superhero origin story stuff, and I really wanted to write a post about my own weird…hand…thingymaginky. Plus the immortality. But I prefer the flamethrowing stuff.

I think it probably started when I was discovering Kaya’s nasty habit of taking over whenever I went into Delirium. We were at the beach, and I fell into Delirium.

I remember vaguely what happened. Mainly, I remember Kaya screaming. I couldn’t see her, I don’t think anyone would be able to see her again. But she was screaming. The monsters had her surrounded. She was in pain.

Yeah…I’m not entirely sure why I did what I did. I have debates whether or not I regret it. But I had charged at them. I gave Kaya enough time to get back to Reality.

Then they cornered me.

I wonder if they had killed me, would I still be in Delirium? I’m uncertain. Before, I had always been afraid of dying. Originally, when my Delirium had been starting out, I didn’t have visions from my own point of view. I saw it from Kaya, Nereida, lots of people. Most of them died, with me feeling and seeing everything.

Then, somehow, I ended up there. With my own body. And now part of me is stuck there.

The prison they locked me in is one of the most terrifying places on Earth. I wasn’t sure who to fear more; the guards with swollen heads who liked to watch as their prisoners scream, or the captives, who would stare at me with a detached creepy expression on their face as they laughed at nothing and would scream out randomly.

I found out a couple of things. They wouldn’t kill me. I think at the time I was relieved to hear that. But they weren’t going to let me go. Let me explain to you what kind of ones these monsters are. In order to know what they know, they have suffered massive deformities in their bodies. Their eyes seem to bulge out of their giant heads, and a few of them are missing their senses in order to enhance others.

These people, with their impossible intelligence, they want to develop, they want to create new things. It had started with themselves, but then they found a better solution. Prisoners. Anyone guilty of a major crime would be ‘donated’ and they would come here. After that, what happened to them would be a secret to all except their torturers.

That was how things were before Kaya. Kaya and her refusal to stay dead. Kaya and her stubborn determination. Kaya and her bright purple eyes and shock of white hair…

When Kaya did what she did, she showed people what really happened. And now they’re thinking. Thinking is dangerous, you see. Before, people thought this was a good idea. But they didn’t really know. And now they do.

Either way, the monsters never cared about what others thought. They went about as they always did, doing as they wished. And I would be their next victim.

Apparently Kaya was trying to get me out. Negotiate a deal. I didn’t know who at the time, but I’m guessing now it was the fat man, aka. Thommand. Either way, she didn’t go through with it. Why, she won’t tell me.

Later on, I think I described what I had done as a deal with the devil. It probably was, when you consider it. But it was the only thing I could do. I wanted to get out before I was reduced to the screaming wrecks which inhabited the prison.

So I made an agreement. With the monsters. I would be allowed out of that place, and in could live with Daniel and be free in my own Delirium.

In exchange, I would have to return occasionally. Every while and then for a check up.

And they would stick a needle in my arm that would make my blood burn.

I couldn’t speak to Daniel after. They let me out, and he found me wandering the outside world. I went back to Reality not long after in a similar predicament. I spent an hour searching, until I found Papa Willis and pretty much sprinted into him. I was so happy I was alive, but at the same time, I felt as guilty as hell.

I would still consider it a prison. Delirium itself is a prison. I can’t escape it, and I can’t avoid it. But I’m glad that I’m not staying in that hellhole of a cell forever.

Sometimes the monsters have other ideas. They go back on their agreement and chain me up when I try to leave. I never let Daniel come with me to these…checkups, because they would chain him too. Instead, he comes to break me out whenever I need help.

Not that I always need that help.

I think the first time I had found out about my hands would’ve been that time I had named The Rage of a Cat. When I consider it, I think that that was probably the aim of their injections. The immortality was just sort of a side effect. And when they found out about said immortality, they took it more as a challenge. They tried to kill me in as many ways possible.

The very first time I had died, I was stabbed.

I think the second time was when my guts were torn out. But there might have been another before that. Most of it’s a blur.

Later, they tried to kill me by hitting me over the head. That time was different. I managed to get revenge, or at least some animalistic satisfaction from murdering the man they same way he murdered me.

That’s another thing I’ve noticed. I’ve become…stronger. I can fight back for once. I feel like I am intimidating enough to have control of myself now.

But…I also feel worse about myself. That time I got revenge wasn’t the only death I have caused. The bad thing is that I’ve forgotten how many I’ve killed. And who. I never knew who I had killed. And reading back my words, I sound like an utter monster.

I suppose I’m frightened of what I’m becoming. Being in Delirium is slowly taking away my humanity, bit by bit. And because of that, I’m scared of myself in Reality as well. Because I know I’m capable of doing the same thing there.

But when you think about it, I’m not entirely a monster. If I were, Daniel would’ve abandoned me by now. But he hasn’t. He still cares about me even if I’m a murderer and psycho. So there has to be some bit of good in me somewhere.

I’m not a superhero. I’m too fucked up for that. But I’m not the bad guy either. I’m just a freak. And that’s fine with me.

Meeting Cat Madigan


Okay, time to get creative!

Speaking of which, there’s a new Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared video out. I thought they said they’d never be creative again, though to be fair, the notepad said that, not the clock.

Anyway, it’s another DP Challenge! Yayyyyyyyy.

This week, I’m writing from the perspective of someone very close to me, and someone I care very much about.

…or I could just get Daniel to write this.

Yeah! Let’s talk to Daniel. Come on out Daniel.


“How much do you want?”

“Two embarrassing selfies and a chocolate bar.”


It was a mess. Black blood on the floor, and she was huddled up in a ball. There were marks on her neck where the thing’s hands were.
“Hey!” I shook her. “Wake up!”
She didn’t respond, but she felt like she was on fire. I splashed some water along her hairline and waited. This shouldn’t take too long.
Finally, she woke up. “It’s cold,” she whispered.
“Wait till your temperature has gone down a slight,” I told her.
She tried to stand, but she fell down quickly. “Don’t try to walk yet,” I told her. “Readjust first.”
Obediently, she didn’t make another attempt. She sat up, resting against her door. She stared blankly in front of her, no life in her pale face. What had those things done?
Then she looked at me, eyes wide and uncertain. “Who are you?” she asked.
I took off my hat. “I’m Daniel. At your service.”
“What? Ugh…” She closed her eyes, and reopened them. “What are you doing here?”
I smile. “Well, I saved your life, for one.”
“You did?” She frowned. “Will they be back?”
My smile quickly fades. “Not tonight,” I say slowly.
“But later?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
She just shrugs. Then she looks up again. “Are you real?”
“What do you mean?”
She grimaces. “Are you from the same place they are?”
“…yeah.” I remembered why I came. “What’s your name?”
“My- I’m Cat. Cat Madigan.”
“So I had found the right one.”
“The right one?”
I sit down beside her. “Have you seen a girl with blue hair around?”
She nods once. “She mentioned you,” I informed her. “You were the only one noticing her.”
Cat frowned. Then she sprang up. “My friend,” she said. “I was talking-”
“It’s fine, go ahead.”
The rest of the night was a blur. She talked to her friend, and I dissolved into background for the rest of the night.
When she was done though, she looked around for me. “Daniel?”
Stay silent, I told myself. I had done my work. It was harder when she started crying, but she fell asleep quickly, and I left.

“Hello,” I said the next day.
Looking back now, I understand why she crashed into her cupboard, but at the time, I ended up scaring her even more.
Twenty minutes later, she had calmed down enough. “Why are you here now?”
“Checking on you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember yesterday?”
“What about it? Nothing happened, really.”
“What d’you mean?”
“It wasn’t real,” she said. She would repeat that a lot after every incident, I noticed.
I just sighed. “Can you tell me about you?”
I frowned. “Why?”
Don’t give anything away, the voice in my head screamed. “Look. You seem like a nice girl, and I can’t imagine how you got caught up in this,” I quoted from the speech I had rehearsed before. “I might be able to stop the monsters. But only if you tell me everything.”
Cat thought for a moment. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Not really.”
“Okay then.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen,” she said.
I was surprised at that. She seemed younger. “You go to school?”
“Yeah, I’m in year ten now.”
“Right.” I breathe out. “Got any friends?”
“Melody, Izzy, Evil One, Snugglepot, Bad Dog, Batman, Papa Willis-” she recited.
“Question answered,” I broke her off. She stuck her tongue out at me. I frowned. “What was that for?”
Cat shook her head. “Sorry.”
I sighed. “You got a boyfriend?”
Cat’s face lit up. “Yeah, Potch,” she told me.
“Do you do drugs?”
“No.” She made a face.
“Do you sniff paint?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “And I don’t dabble in black magic either.”
“I didn’t mention black magic.”
“It was going to come up.”
“Yeah, it was,” I admitted. “Are you mentally ill?”
“Probably. Monsters that no one else can see are trying to kill me at night.”
I roll my eyes. “Nothing you know for certain?”
“No. How much more is there?”
“That’s almost it,” I told her.

A Visit


Describing a scene…what is there to describe in my world? A boring bus station full of bitchy school girls, a bedroom which is essentially being used to store every single thing my mother buys and can’t make room for, and a school which would be lovely if it weren’t spoiled by the girls in it.

That’s what’s in Reality…

Let me go into Delirium now…

I’m in a forest, or at least what remains of one. Under my feet, the ground is ice cold, because that’s what it is; ice.

There aren’t any other places which are frozen over. This is the one place in Delirium where the ground is solid water. And it’s cursed.

How I ended up here, I don’t know. But I always seem to. This isn’t the first time I’ve been to the Lake of Ghosts.

Daniel’s with me, making sure nothing happens. And by nothing happens, I mean no one leaps from the shadows and runs me through with a sword. I’ve never been here with him before, and I’m glad he’s here now. He’s the only person I like here that’s still alive. Anyone else is dead or god knows where…

“How did this happen?” I ask him.

He hesitates before telling me. The water levels had gone up and up, drowning villages and forests and mountains in its wake. The water then froze, leaving behind a nightmare.

The tops of the branches stick out from under the ice. It has frozen around them, and you can see the rest of the tree underneath. This isn’t like ice in Reality, I don’t think. I haven’t really seen ice in Reality though; I haven’t been to the snow since I was two. But I can see through this ice, albeit with a swirly quality to the sight.

We walk to an area with no branches sticking out of the ice. “You see here?” Daniel said. “We just walked off a cliff.”

“What?” I look back. The ice is silvery, whereas before you could see where the floor of the forest once was. I look down.


“Calm down,” Daniel hisses.

I manage to do so. But then I see something in the ice. I walk over to it, ignoring Daniel’s warning.

From where I was standing before, it was a dark mass in the ice, no shape to it whatsoever. Now I see it from a closer view…

It’s eyes are blue, and they gaze at me emotionlessly. The man had dark hair, raven black hair. And his body looks like it would be flying…if it hadn’t been trapped in the frozen water.

“Cat, we need to go,” Daniel tells me. He’s right, because now the Lake of Ghosts grows darker, and shadows are coming. They hiss at me, they know me.

Taking Daniel’s hand, I let him return me back.


“Cat!” Daniel’s shaking me awake.

The scene around me changes, and I’m back in my bedroom/the storage space. “Thank you,” I tell him.

He just shakes his head.

If you’re interested in the challenge, click the link here. I’m leaving for a place called La La Land tomorrow, and I should be back in Wonderland by Sunday. So forgive me if I don’t update for a bit.

Cat Madigan

Atlys and Sylverlace




“But the Weekly Challenge-”

“I know what it said.”

“It said, pick one of the characters that inhabit your brain.”

“That does not mean you specifically Daniel!”


“Fuck off.”


Here’s the Weekly Challenge, if any of you would care to have a shot at it: Weekly Writing Challenge: Characters That Haunt You

Yes, you can see why I laughed when I saw this challenge. How many characters do I have in my brain? Millions most likely. Lots and lots of people just waiting to get out. Daniel’s already left his cage.

However, I don’t want to talk Delirium or its Delusions today. I’d rather talk about a character in my story. Actually, I’ll talk about two characters.

The first is already an adult. I’m going to make her nearing her 30s. Her name is Mhyrandah Atlys, and she is on a quest to win her throne from her incompetent cousin. The Atlyses are an old family, centuries old, and they’re a very proud family, which is understandable, for they are the monarchs of the kingdom. But they are also a very wise family, they recorded the stories of old, events from the past, along with ideas about religion, science, even technology. The Atlyses are what brought civilisation back on track, after an event known as The Blast came about, killing about ninety percent of the population of the Earth. A lot of the knowledge of the Earth was destroyed, but the Atlyses managed to help humanity recover, with them as leaders.

As an Atlys, Mhyrandah knows many things about the history of humanity, including The Blast. She even has dreams of humanity in the past. She’s very weary about religion, seeing it as something which suffocates you and tries to control you, and her cousin Alexiyos uses religion and the belief that women cannot rule as his justification for claiming the throne. It’s her knowledge of the past that drives her, she knows that women can rule, and that she is a more worthy ruler than Alexiyos. She’s quite witty, and a quick thinker.

But despite her intelligence, Mhyrandah doesn’t understand people very well. She’s very used to having things her way, and compromising with people she’s not close to is difficult for her. She leaves negotiating to her companion, Isybelle, who is a skilled politician in her own right. She clashes with people easily without Isybelle to intercept. As well as being unable to compromise, Mhyrandah dislikes it when people make her look like a fool. She intensely hates criticism and she hates anyone who thinks wrong of her.

Which brings us to Character Two.

Mhyrandah marries in the story, and she has two stepchildren. Of a sorts. They’re illegitimate children, but she chooses to have one legitimised, just in case she doesn’t provide the kingdom with an heir.

That child is not the one I’m going to talk about.

It’s his sister.

Kassya Sylver, also known by her “bastard name”, Sylverlace, is the illegitimate daughter of Jharron Huntyr. She’s the opposite of Mhyrandah, she doesn’t mind religion, though that is probably because her religion and that of Mhyrandah’s people are completely different, and she is willing to negotiate with people. Unless, she doesn’t like them. And Mhyrandah’s stubbornness and self absorbed nature rubs Kassya the wrong way.

She understands people a lot better than Mhyrandah does, and when Mhyrandah becomes Queen, Kassya begins to study the politics of the court, and she begins to earn a name for herself. With help from her father, she is soon allowed to learn from the Atlys Files, paying particular attention to philosophy. Her new education and natural curiosity leads her to question the logic behind Mhyrandah’s policies, which of course, leads her to butt heads with Mhyrandah.

Kassya has flaws too though. She has a strong reckless streak, and though a lot of it is motivated by self preservation, she has moments where she acts out of carelessness and mischievous. It’s particularly noticeable at the beginning of the story, though it becomes more concealed later. This is what brings Mhyrandah to initially dislike her, though she puts up with her, until Kassya begins to disagree with Mhyrandah’s actions and she goes full blown evil-stepmother on her. She has her own type of stubbornness, like Mhyrandah, though the difference is that Mhyrandah is adamant about having her way, while Kassya has strict ideas about what is right or wrong.

I find that these two characters are very similar, despite their interactions with eachother. Mhyrandah and Kassya are both eager to learn, and are strong people, who refuse to back down from a challenge. They also want recognition for themselves, though in different ways; Mhyrandah wants to be Queen and Kassya wants to be legitimised, not so she can inherit the throne, but so she is acknowledged as her father’s daughter. They’re also strong speakers, though Mhyrandah can deal better with planned speeches and Kassya is able to hold herself in an argument.

The main differences, I think, between the two is that Kassya is far more resilient than Mhyrandah, and Mhyrandah has far more power than Kassya. Which leads to Kassya irritating Mhyrandah, Mhyrandah ‘punishing’ Kassya, Kassya criticising Mhyrandah and Mhyrandah getting angry and ‘punishing’ her again.

And the cycle continues.

The story is only folding out in my head at the moment, so this explanation is not as clear as I would like it to be. But here are two of the characters in my head, Mhyrandah Atlys and Kassya Sylver.

Suck on that, Daniel.

Obviously, there are far more characters than Mhyrandah and Kassya, but I’ll save those for another time. And no, the plot line where Mhyrandah takes the throne will not be the whole focus of the story. The main plot line is a whole lot darker…>:)

Anyway, time to go to school, just came back from therapy which was so desperately needed.

Love Mad Cat.



There is nothing wrong with your computer screen. Do not make any attempt to readjust your picture.

We at The Adventures of Cat Madigan would like to interrupt the current series Cat’s Run Away, to bring to you another DP Challenge!

What’s that? You want to hear more about how I’m a horrible person and how I ran away from home? Tough biscuits, nonexistent complainer.

There are times where I feel like I have nothing in common with my family. I’m like a black sheep, only I’m a Cat. I’m the Black Cat of my family! How creative of me.

So who do I see when I look at myself?

My horrible fair skin belongs to my father. Yes, fair skin is lovely to have…when it doesn’t go bright red all the time. And then there’s the freckles. Freckles are evil, there’s no point in having freckles, they provide nothing whatsoever, except something for your grandmother to remark on when she analyses you.

But I have received my hair from my father. It’s the one part of me that I actually like. Long, thick curls which now reach down to the middle of my spine. They’re dark at the moment, but in its natural state, my hair is light brown, with sun streaks all over. It’s pretty in the sun. If only they didn’t straighten it all the time at modelling…

And I have my mother to thank for my cheekbones. Oh, and my fat ass. Thanks to my mother, it is my fate to have an ass larger than Australia. And from what I’ve seen of my mother, it’s bound to bring around constant depression induced debates over whether or not to get liposuction to remove said fat from ass. So thank you mother.

Then I look in the mirror again and realise that there’s really not that much I can see that I’ve inherited from my parents. Not physically anyways. But I can see resemblances to my grandparents. I’ve got two of each still, lucky me.

Nose is my Grandma’s. And thank goodness for that. The alternative would’ve been the infamous nose of my paternal grandparents, a large hooked thing which you always see first. But I’ve (thankfully) inherited the small, upturned one instead. I’ve spent many an hour at family Christmas parties, thanking God that I avoided receiving dad’s nose.

Lips are my Grandpa’s I think, because I can’t see them resembling either my mother’s or father’s. My bottom one is fuller than my top one, even though both my parents have thin lips. By the smallest of chances, I escaped having thin old lady lips. Thanks grandpa. But I think that I also have the same body type as my grandfather. He and I are both very tall, like my father, but unlike my father, Grandpa and I are very lean. We’re like trees, and we both have very muscly legs; his from walking around the farm caring for horses, mine from walking and running all day in the city.

Then there’s emotional inheritances….

Personally, I think there’s no such thing. You get your personality from the way you’ve been raised. If you had been raised by two different people, you’d probably be more like them than your parents. Rather than ‘inheriting’ personality, it’s formed by the people who raise you.

So over the years, who have I become?

I’m very stubborn, that’s for certain. As you might have gathered from previous posts, I’m not happy when I don’t get my way. That’s probably thanks to both my mother and my father. But I don’t usually do something about it unless something is completely unfair. That’s when I do something mad, aka. Running away. But I don’t think my parents have ever ran away before. I must be the first person to have that sort of gene. Future generations are going to remember me as “Mad Grandma Cat” from now on. Yay…

I think I have more in common with my father than my mother, when I think about it. We aren’t easy to move, when we’re angry, we’re as cold as glaciers. We’re also very good at arguing our points, and we also have a love for historical fiction, or history in general. But our way of thinking is also the same. We think things through logically, rather than leaping to emotions first off. We’re quiet until you know us well, then we don’t shut up. And we don’t show our pain easily. I have never seen my father cry to this day, and I don’t expect him ever to.

Unlike personality, mental illnesses ARE something you can inherit. And I most likely have anxiety from my father, and depression from my mother. Hence why I am fucked up, imaginary ladies and gentlemen. My brain is addled with depression and anxiety. Plus hallucinations.

They say children are a reflection of their parents, so what exactly does that make me?

Whatever the case, I really hope my kids (imaginary or otherwise) don’t end up like me. I don’t want them to hurt too.

So if you’re interested, here’s the Daily Prompt Challenge! I’ll resume the saga of Cat’s run away next time. I think it’ll take up several posts, so keep reading non existent fans!

Mad Cat.

Therapy in my Madness


“I don’t like her,” Daniel tells me.

“Oh shut up.”

“Well I don’t.”

“Well, you don’t get a say, she’s my therapist.”

“She called me a cancer!”

“Well you ARE a cancer. In a way.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

We ignored eachother for the rest of the day after that. He’d still pop up, but he wouldn’t talk to me: he’d merely stick his tongue out at me and pretend not to pay attention. He’s a figment of my imagination, yet he expresses emotion more openly than I ever would, well, at least when I’m in my right mind.

That was the therapy session I had last week. And yesterday I had another.

This time, Lee had asked me to write a reflection about how I felt about the session. So now I am on the bus, and I’m writing it now.

The session was about expressing emotion, and how I had difficulty doing this.
Some points that came up were about how I couldn’t really express how I felt at home, and I was not allowed to have an opinion of my own, due to my parent’s philosophy of how children should be seen but not heard.
Lee had pointed out to me that whenever she asked questions about what I thought a parent should be like, or what sort of relationship I’d like with my parents, I would hesitate, and say “I’m not sure.”
Essentially, Lee suggested that I wasn’t getting enough emotional support at home, and that may be the cause of my delusions.

Ok, that’s good enough. But the point of this exercise was to record my emotions about this. That’s the hard part.

It was at this point that Daniel popped in.

“I’m in the middle of therapy homework, go away,” I tell him.

“I want to help,” he says.

“Well, you can’t.”

“Why not? Out of the both of us, I can figure your emotions better than you can.”

“Says who?” I retort.

“Says me.”

“You’re one of my Delusions,” I say. “I shouldn’t be relying on you for support.”

“Then who should you rely on?” He pops his feet up on the seat in front. “As far as I know, your home life isn’t the most emotionally supportive place.”

“There’s my friends. I have them at least, thankyou-” I suddenly recognise the phrase he used. “You were there!” I exclaim.


“At therapy! You were there!”

Daniel laughs. “Well, in my defence, it against my will.”

“How so?”

“When she brought up your emotional immaturity, I simply had to listen,” he answered. He turns to face me. “So, lets begin.”

My head flashes towards him. “Wait, what now?”

“Doctor Daniel is here to talk.”

“What?” I glare at him. “No.”

“It’ll be good for you!”


Daniel crossed his arms. “What if I told you I were a doctor?”

“The only doctors I trust are Lee and David Tennant.”

“What about Matt Smith?”

“Lee, David Tennant and Matt Smith.” I think for a moment. “And Chris Eccleston.”

“Good to know.” Daniel moves closer to me. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to help you.”

“What part of fuck off is so difficult for you to understand?” I hiss.

“What part of I’m here to help is so difficult for you to understand?” he answers.

“Forgive me, but I do not need what you call ‘help’,” I tell him angrily. “Now go away.”

For a while he’s silent. He just watches me get more and more frustrated as I try to write down how I’m feeling, with a big smirk on his face. Emotions are irritating. Daniel’s irritating. The fact I have currently have no Internet is irritating.

“And you,” I voice aloud. “Looking over my shoulder while I’m writing is particularly irritating.”

He grins. “Irritating’s my middle name.” He still hasn’t given up. “So now will you let me help?”

I refuse to answer him.

After I get off the bus, leaving Daniel there, or so I thought, I go to Hay Street to get some tea, before making my way to the food court, so I could finish my homework. I’m typing, and there’s a voice behind me.

“When Lee said you had no support at home, how did you react?”

I roll my eyes. “I told you to go away.”

“We’ve been over this before. I don’t listen.


“Now answer my question.”

“Why should I?”

He groans. “Silly girl, don’t you want to finish your homework?”,

I grimace. “I can’t,” I admit.

“And why not?”

“Because how am I meant to understand how I feel?!” I snap at him. By this time, a lot of people are giving me looks, so I take out my phone and pretend that I’m talking to the person on the other line.

Daniel doesn’t give up. “Ordinary people can.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Point taken,” he concedes. He thinks for a moment. “But, you do know what you think about something, yes?”

“Yes,” I say cautiously. “Where are you going with this?”

“It’s only an observation,” he assures me. “But if you think about what you think, you can surely figure out how you feel.”

“And talking to you will help me figure it out?” I retort bitterly.

He indicates what I’ve currently done. “I don’t see much being done here.”

I groan. Daniel already knows I’ve consented; he’s grinning like an idiot. “You sir, are an ASS,” I tell him.

Daniel merely rolls his eyes. “Go through everything she brought up,” he instructs. “Tell me what you thought about it, and then how you feel about what you thought.”

We start talking about my family’s ‘lack of emotional stability’.

“She’s right, you know,” he tells me. “How much can you tell your family?”

“Next to nothing,” I confirm. “But how much could you confide in your parents?”

He grinned. “Same as you. Less actually; I haven’t seen them in years.”

“Are they dead?” I ask.

He shrugs, as if his parents were as insignificant as the weather. “Maybe, maybe not,” he says lightly. “So why can’t you talk to them?”

I think. And then I grimace. “Every time I try to, they don’t listen,” I tell him. “And if they do, they’d later use it against me.”

Daniel frowns, confused. “How so?”

“If they knew the full extent of what was going on with,” I tap my temple to indicate my growing insanity. “They’d keep me locked up, or at least in a similar situation. I wouldn’t be allowed to go out anywhere, or do anything. I’d be the insane girl, locked up in an asylum created by them.”

“I see. And how does this make you feel?” Daniel adopts a calm, stereotypical psychiatrist-like falsetto.

I roll my eyes. “Angry, I suppose,” I tell him. “But…also hopelessness.” At Daniel’s look of confusion, I explain. “They’re never going to change. And I can’t make them change. I will never be able to rely on them.”

“Next question,” Daniel says. “How much do you love your parents?”

I remember Lee asking this question. “I thought a lot about that,” I recall. “I was confused for a while…”

“And now?”

“…still confused, but I know what I think.”

“That’s what we’re aiming for,” says Daniel. “What about your father, how much do you love him?”

“…I told Kim I love him for he is my father,” I say slowly. “I’ve had a better think about it now though.”


I take a deep breathe. “My father is a pain in the ass,” I say. “But he understands me. We think alike, we react logically to situations. And we’re both interested in history, how people behave.” I look up at Daniel. “I can love him for those reasons. He understands me, and I like to think that I can rely on him for some support, which is more than I can say for my mother.”

“And what of her?”


“Answer the question.”

“…I cannot tell my mother anything without her using it against me,” I admit. “She criticises me on a daily basis, and that’s the least of it. She refuses to listen to my arguments; her word is gospel. Our outlooks…they’re far too different. And like I said, she won’t change.” I shake my head. “But she’s my mother. And therefore, I cannot not love her.”

Daniel frowns for a moment. “Your therapist asked you if you had met your mother by chance, on the street, and she was only a complete stranger, would you still want to know her? You had no answer then, but now that you’ve thought about it…”

“Let me think on it.” I’m typing up everything on the reflection thus far, and by the time I’ve done, I have my answer. “My mother is good fifty percent of the time,” I say. “But the rest of the time, I find myself wanting someone else. One who would love me without judging me.” I inhale, and for the first time today, I know how I feel immediately. I feel dread. “If my mother was a stranger, I wouldn’t want to know her,” I whisper. “Not as a friend anyway. I wouldn’t trust her not to turn on me.”

Daniel’s arm goes around me. “It’s like a coin flip,” he says to me. “There’s half of them that’s good, and makes you feel horrible at the thought of hurting them. And on the other side of the coin, they make you feel pain, and you want nothing more than to just get away.”

For a moment, I’m just looking at Daniel’s face. His eyes look green at the moment, the same colour as my blazer. Sometimes they look gold, like an autumn leaf, or grey like a cloud. Sometimes they even look blue, though when you focus, it turns out it’s only a different shade of green, a trick constructed by all that surrounds him.

They’re my eyes. My eyes match neither my mother’s or my father’s, they’re uniquely mine. And I see myself when I see Daniel, and our matching eyes. But he says everything I can’t, loud and clear. He’s arrogant, he often torments me, but then he turns around and saves me when I need it most.

Can you get to a point where you actually care for someone who’s a figment of your imagination?

I take that moment to run, and for whatever reason he has, he doesn’t follow, this strange delusion of mine.

Another Daily Prompt Challenge. I read this after I had my appointment with Lee, and I decided to write this up.

We had talked about things like how I believed a mother should act toward her child, and I found myself making contrasts between my mother and how I would be toward my child. The more I think, the less I have in common with my parents, and sometimes I worry what would happen if I distanced myself from them all together.

To see the newest dpChallenge, check the link below.

And Internet is finally back, thank god.

Mad Cat.