Seb is ill. He's very ill. And he won't eat. And I have been sat on my own for a month.
I am an absolute wreck.
My room, where I was Lola, has become my room where I let out all my real emotions.
At night, I cry and cry until I have no tears left. The little amount of sleep I get is filled with visions of horrible possibilities.
What if Seb is too ill to live?
What if my mother just never comes out of her room?
Sometimes I deliberately take the long way home because I know I will have to feel like hell when I get there.
Our house is nowhere near as clean as it used to be because I now spend weekends taking care of Seb. Getting him to eat at least his dinner, if he can keep it down. Making sure he stays at the correct temperature.
Heather has taken my being alone at school as yet another opportunity to get at me. I don't know why it offends her so much that my family is smaller than hers, but she takes it really personally.
Trish's bruise has gone, and she's back to watching us. I mean, she's back to watching me.
Her group of boys is back to being loud and rowdy. They shove each other and make fun of each other, and generally don't seem to care what other people think of them.
The older one, the one who shouted at Trish, occasionally glances at me. He keeps a very close eye on Trish. He's edging on overprotective, but if he's really close to her, I can kind of see where he's coming from. If I saw Seb with a mark like that on his face I would never let him out of my sight again.