Don’t Go Now

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It’s all a matter of waiting. Which happens to be the thing I am worst at.

It’s like that time with Chase; the only thing I can do is sit there and watch on. There’s only helplessness.

And hate. That too.

Daniel’s shivering all the time, and his face is drained of any colour, except for a bright red near his right eye. Right now there’s a bandage wrapped around his head, covering the wound, but I still feel sick, knowing what’s underneath it…

“The eye must be removed,” Jhaq had told me. “It’s been too badly damaged, Daniel would no longer be able to use it.”

Later, someone I assumed to be the physician gave me a much more gory description. The eye had been sliced straight down the middle, whoever attacked him got him straight in the eyeball. His words made everything seem so much worse, I had already felt uneasy at the sight of Daniel; hearing the doctor’s words made my stomach churn.

“What else has been done?” I asked Jhaq.

She just shook her head. “Have you cleaned it?” I probed. “Have you given him water? Please, tell me!”

“We’ve cleaned it, Miss Madigan,” she reassured me hurriedly. “And he’s been given food and water, but…” Her voice trailed off.

I tried to understand. “He…can’t keep it down? Is that it?” She nodded. “Is it the shock?”

Jhaq sighed softly. “The weapon, Miss Madigan…” She stopped speaking suddenly.

I then saw the two figures at the door. One of them is Thommand, the other is his Grace.

“What do you want?” I said coldly.

Christan looked away. Thommand spoke. “We merely wanted to have knowledge of your wishes, Lady Madigan.”

“Wishes? What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Have you seen the condition of the weapon?” Without waiting for my response, he takes it out from behind him and tosses it toward the bed.

I caught it with my left hand and looked at it. I felt my anger rise as I saw it still had Daniel’s blood on it. “Just what am I meant to be looking at?”

“Wipe the blood aside if that helps,” Thommand suggested.

I ran the blade over the leg of my pants, and as the blood disappeared, I saw what he meant. I glared at Christan. “Why would someone carry a blade this rusty?”

“Do not question him,” Thommand said sharply.

“I have every right to,” I growled. Christan’s eyes widened. “After everything that has happened, I certainly have that right.”

“The point at hand,” Thommand was changing the subject again. “Is that if he receives an infection, then he shall slowly rot.”

Christan flinched as my five letters lit up again. “And?” I snarled.

Thommand is completely unfazed. “In the case of that happening, I was wondering if, instead of letting him suffer, you would allow one to administer a quick d-”

A ball of light suddenly seared off the edge of his arm. “Get out now, before you lose the rest of your attire,” I hissed. “Now!”

Thommand turned around in a huff, but Christan remained. “And what do you want?” I enquired angrily.

He shook his head. “I am the king,” he said firmly. “I wish to stay with Daniel as he recovers.”

“I believe you lost that right when you put that bloody dagger in his eye!”

“I will not be ordered around by his wench, my la-”

I caught him by the collar and hissed in his ear. “Listen,” I growled. “I have killed people for far less than you have done, your Grace. I am definitely not below revenge, and no one would blame me for it now.” I looked up and met his frightened gaze. “If your life means anything to you, you’ll leave. Now.”

I let him go, and he turned away with whatever remained of his pride. I looked back at Jhaq, who had no expression on her face. “Are you alright?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“Yes, Miss Madigan,” she said firmly. She came up to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “Is Miss Madigan?”

I looked away. “What do you think?”

She sighed. “Jhaq…no, I worry too.”

Suddenly, Daniel let out a scream. “Daniel?!” I ran over and gripped his hand. “What’s going on?”

She just stared at Daniel, who was shaking violently. “Jhaq, please, help!” I pleaded.

Jhaq looked up. “Daniel is…”

“What?” I put my hand on his chest and I can feel it pounding like a jackhammer. “What are you saying?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Daniel is…not here.”

“…not here?”

“No. Daniel’s mind is…gone.”

I shook my head. “It’s the shock, that’s all. He’s just in shock.”

Jhaq raised an eyebrow at me, and I immediately understand what she means. Who would know better than me?

“He’ll…he’ll come back though,” I told her. “I always do. No matter how bad it gets, I always come back. Even if it’s against my will.”

Jhaq spoke up again. “Daniel is not like Miss Madigan,” she reminded me. “Miss Madigan…” At the sight of my confusion, she raised her left hand, and I realised what she meant. “Daniel has never…Daniel is not…” She is grasping for words she does not know.

So I speak for her. “Daniel is not a freak,” I concluded.

She nodded. “If he…he won’t…” I inhaled. “He wouldn’t come back. He wouldn’t…heal.”

I looked down at Daniel. His lips were forming words I couldn’t hear, or understand. “How…long?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “No.” She suddenly ran out of the room, leaving me with Daniel.

“Cat…” I heard a whimpering sound come from Daniel. I grasped his hand, and waited for him to say more. Instead, he cried out again, gasping in agony.

His hand tightened around mine, and I thought my bones would break. But I didn’t let go. If I did, he might too. Stay with me Daniel, I pleaded. Please.

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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

Bad/Mad/Sick/Silly Cat.

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This blog is called The Adventures of Cat Madigan for a reason; because Cat Madigan has ADVENTURES!

Well, aside from the ongoing saga Cat’s Run Away (yes, yes, I KNOW, I’m meant to be posting stuff, and I keep forgetting to write…), my adventures really only happen in my head. Aka, Delirium.

But I like to have adventures in Reality, even very minor ones. If I have adventures in Reality, I can stay in Reality more easily.

And I cannot have adventures if I am sick in bed.

Yes, Cat Madigan is sick. I cannot keep anything down, and for some reason, I keep trying to prove my body otherwise. My body’s response is always the same: “NO, Cat, I can’t eat right now, I’m busy keeping you alive and fighting the viruses, I can’t handle extra burdens! No, don’t put that PopTart in your mouth, noooooo, no! Bad Cat! Bad bad bad Cat! Okay…you asked for it….”

With barely enough energy to move, Daniel takes delight in making fun of me, and I often found myself falling into Delirium randomly. Almost as if I were falling asleep.

In Delirium, I can move, I can eat. I remember sitting on the edge of a river, lying in the tall grass that grew there, and dipping my toes in the warm water. And pulling my feet out before Daniel could spring out of the water and grab them and pull me in.

Those are the only times that I enjoy being in Delirium. Those times when it’s only Daniel who’s with me, and no one wants to hurt me, or burn me.

Speaking of burning…

I’m not sure how I knocked my bed light over. I had left it on, by accident, and I hadn’t the foggiest idea that I had done what I did.

Later, when I was Skyping with my dear ‘father’, who smugly told me he had half the day off from school, I smelt burning. It smelt like burning rubber, but I couldn’t tell where it was from. I nearly asked Papa Willis if he could smell something, before quickly realising that smells cannot be transmitted via iPad, not even on Skype.

Imagine what my supposed brother would be able to do if that technology was possible… Imagine what people would be able to do, period. Imagine getting an email and opening it, only to smell the fresh aroma of rotting eggs. Thank god for ethics…

When my mother came home, I was reassured that I wasn’t hallucinating, or whatever you call perceiving smells that weren’t there. Something was on fire.

I was checking the power points, when I saw a bright light on my mat.

Bright as a flame.

Well, it wasn’t a flame, because the heat was concentrated on one area. But still…

I thought that the worst of my problems was that it had burnt my rug.

Then I saw it had burnt through it, and had been starting on my carpet.

Mum merely shrugged, and said we’d need to replace the carpets anyway, when we moved out of the house, (that’s for another time though). When she left the room, I heard someone clapping slowly. “Shut up Daniel,” I said.

He chuckled.

As I sit here, starving, and craving whatever the heck is cooking at the moment, I’m thankful for one thing; that the smell of charcoaled rubber has finally left my room and I can breathe fresh air again.

I can hear what everyone else is doing, outside my bedroom. My mother is struggling to reactivate her long deactivated Facebook account. I have no idea why she’d want to, I didn’t even know she had friends that use Facebook. But as I, the Facebook and social media genius of the family, am out of action, she has resorted to employing my brother’s clumsy skills to do so. It’s amusing to watch, well, hear.

One moment.

It’s less funny now. My brother just asked me the surname of MJ, along with that of various other friends.

My mother’s going to now stalk me on Facebook.

Or at the very least, she’s going to stalk my friends.

This means war…

*Cranky Cat Mode Initiated*

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWR!

Mad Cat. (And I’m crazy too!)