11th December

I still feel sick. Worse actually. Probably because He stayed with me last night. I wish He wouldn’t touch me. But He does, constantly. He likes to hold me close when He sleeps. He thinks it’s cosy. I think it’s creepy and I told Him so. I gotta learn to keep my mouth shut. I don’t even feel it though when He hits me anymore. I think my nerves are too damaged from all the shit He’s done to me. Either that or all the scars are too thick for the pain to get through them. I think I’d probably been here about a month when He started playing The Game. What’s The Game? Sick and cruel. He suggested He would let me out for an hour if I was extra good . I was a perfect angel. Then He said ‘We can’t go out today little girl, it’s raining’. I could have killed Him on the spot if I could have reached Him, and He knew it. He just smiled and said ‘Maybe tomorrow’. He plays The Game at least twice a month, but I just ignore Him. At least I pretend to. A part of me still gets my hopes up, even though I know it’s just His sick Game. He likes to come up with new torments on a semi regular basis. Too often they work.
I think I can see the thing growing. It’s getting harder to ignore. I figure I must be about 4 or 5 months infected by now so I’ll probably succumb around April or May. Where is all this grown up language coming from. I don’t want to be a real grown up. I wonder who Damien took to the ball. I wonder if he or Marcus even went. I hope so. I hope they are all having a real good time. Next week is the last week of school for the year. I missed so much, I’ll probably have to repeat the year to catch up. If I was alive.