10
The effects of Darren’s blood has faded fast and now I’m hungry again.
The TV is doing nothing to distract me; I can’t seem to focus on the screen.
Don’t let it beat you. You don’t need to kill.
I get off the couch and walk around the living room. It’s such a dump. The ceiling looks days away from caving in, and the floors have more cracks than Gran’s face.
A smile forms on my lips when I remember how great her Sunday lunches are. For some reason, I see Gran’s face far more clearly than even Mum’s. Her eyes are like Ivy’s and mine: blue, and her hair is grey, tied back in a ponytail. I see Grandad, too. He’s lying on the couch. He’s dying. I think it’s cancer.
A sharp pain shoots up my back.
I walk into the tiny kitchen.
Mine was much bigger. It had a table, a working tap, and a
