Maybe I should go to that group home. I should. I should go. I should go today.

I've been selfish for my whole life—my whole life.

Nicolás took care of me since I was born, since he was six years old. And what have I ever given back?

I can't even hug him. That's not asking for a lot. He dropped out of his postgraduate just to be able to support me—or "deferred", whatever, same thing. He had to put his whole life on hold. He'll never have time for his friends when I'm around. He'll never have time for a partner when I'm around. He'll never have time to take care of himself when I'm around.

Nicolás gives and gives and gives and I take and I take and I take and I'm never sated. Never sated. I keep hurting him. It's all I do, even when I'm trying not to, I always hurt him. Eventually, I'll take his bones too.

I should go. I'm selfish staying—evil.

I must be, must always have been. Has an evil creature ever considered itself evil? Monstrosity can't perceive itself.

Evil evil evil evil evil evil evil evil–

'Cece, hello.'

Diwa's irritation always has a unique ability to slice into my mind. I blink and turn from the window to look at the frown souring her face. I see it less frequently these days and somehow the barbs in her stare pierce deeper now.

'Are you high?'

I needed to (my heart is beating–) calm down. I just needed to turn my brain off a little. And it were only a little and (–really fast) it were hours ago—it won't be impacting me anymore.

I lost the fight with Char yesterday; the last anyone saw were me taking the hit. And having to grovel to Apostolou didn't help. I'm weak. Everyone sees me as weak.

They'll kill me.

I just needed to turn my brain off for a little.

Diwa sighs. 'Let's just end practice early today.'

Her voice is austere. But (hurt) it cuts. It cuts.

Diwa gathers (pain) the maths worksheets Apostolou printed at her request into a pile. 'We'll pick up from here on Monday.'

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Chairs scarpe. Footsteps. Not hers. Not mine. Meira and Noah's.

'Bye, Diwa!' Noah's chipper voice says from my left. 'Thanks for today. Have a good weekend. Bye, Cece!'

'See you Monday,' I respond. 'Enjoy your weekend.'

Noah leaves the classroom with a wide wave and Meira exits after him.

Diwa rakes her fingers across her skull to collect her waves into a ponytail. The scrape of her nails against strands of hair makes me gag.

'Honestly, Cece,' she starts, keeping her focus on packing up her things, 'I don't feel like I'm asking for that much. We're friends. And you know this is important to me. Can you not get high after school? And what if a teacher noticed? Have you forgotten about how you're tryna not get expelled?'

Now you've made her miserable too. Like everyone around you.

Responses stream to the tip of my tongue only to trip up after a syllable or two. Words refuse to emerge from the smog steadily pumping into my mind until all I'm left with is a red and cobalt colour scheme and the sting of a wasp, neither of which is remotely helpful to communicate with Diwa.

I stand and grab my bag without a word.

'And now we're doing silent treatment thing again.'

You infect everyone around you.

Not only are you evil, but you corrupt everyone—everyone—around you too.

Mrs Harland always said I turned her into what she was to me. She loves children. None of the other kids staying with her got the same treatment. Our parents were happy with Nicolás for seven years. It were only after me that they had to leave. It's my fault.

I bring it everywhere I go. Everywhere I go, people turn monstrous.

Diwa, Sakda, fucking Saadia and Asha and Fionn and all the teachers, all the foster parents I've had, Nicolás, everyone. Wickedness exudes from me like a toxin, like an attack pheromone.

You're evil! You're evil! You're evil! You're evil!

(My heart is beating really fast. I might die.)

Diwa marches down the corridor on my heels, a new thorn of frustration piercing out of her skin with each step. Her complaints dart into my shoulder blades. Holes and holes and holes deep in my muscles. The points sever nerves and the pain is dulled only by the heat of fire when it ignites.

I fling a glare at her over my shoulder. 'I promise I'll do my best to be expelled after the finals when I'm not your problem anymore.'

A flash of amber. 'Is that honestly all you think this is for me? Winning?'

I roll my eyes as I shoulder through the door into the lavatories. It's gender neutral but I don't expect Diwa to follow me. Of course she fucking does though.

The flames burn hotter, multiplying. I stride down the centre hall, punching the cubicle doors open to check that they're empty.

Diwa stays by the island of sinks. 'Sure, at the start, I only tolerated being around you cause of maths olympiad and–' She stops herself and changes track. 'But I thought we decided to be friends. I got grounded for spending time with you. My mum might ship me to fucking West Country if I don't start behaving–'

See? You're infecting her?

'–And you think I'm just using you to win? Clearly, I'm not that bothered with pleasing my parents anymore.'

Are you happy now? Are you happy with what you've made her?

I was worried about sepsis and mould but I've been infecting her this whole time. Now she's shoplifting and disobeying her parents and losing focus in class. And it's my fault.

When the last cubicle is proved empty, I swivel to face her. Behind the smog, most of her features smear and the rest sharpen. They slice paper cuts into my cornea when I step toward her.

'You don't care about me. I've just worn you down so you can't see how horrid I am. But you will. And then you'll run as fast as you can.'

But she doesn't, not even when I bare my teeth, towering above her. All Diwa does is meet me with a glower of her own.

'Of course, I care about you.'

'I'm deciding not to be friends anymore,' I say, turning away from her. 'Just leave me alone.'

I tear off the bandaging tape from the side of my hand. Nicolás applied the gauze generously and the first layers unravel quickly but I flinch when I accidentally rip off skin in my momentum.

'What are you doing?'

What if you kill her? What if–

'Go away.'

But Diwa does not leave.

–you kill her? What if you kill her?

You would enjoy it.

I wouldn't enjoy it. I wouldn't. I–

But the fire heats my blood until it sears my veins. The flames lick my ribs, char my lungs, fill my head with smoke. And it wants red, it wants blood. It has always delighted in pain.

I stifle a scream as I peel the gauze. Might as well peel my own skin.

Pain. Hurt. Pain. It needs it—the fire, Beewolf, me.

What if I killed her and I enjoyed it? How long I can pretend that this burning hatred is someone else—something else? The inevitable truth is that I can only be satiated with pain and one day my body will stop feeling it. I'll need to harvest it from someone else.

(I should drown.)

The torn blisters ooze fluid and blood. They look worse today than they did fresh and Diwa rips her stare away.

Can't blame her. The contents of my stomach churn and I've seen this enough to get used to it.

She keeps repeating her question, shrill and involuntary, like one of those teddy bears with a voice recording tacked into its paw—What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?

But her strength is admirable. I've barely found the lighter from my pocket before she seizes it.

I sigh. One day. Just one day in my life when people could leave me the fuck alone.

'Give it back.'

'What're you doing with it?'

'Give it back.'

You're evil. You hurt everyone around you. Everyone unfortunate enough to see you is cursed. You're a curse.

Look at her. She's crying. You're hurting her. You hurt everyone. And you enjoy it. You're enjoying it, aren't you?

I am enjoying it.

(–DROWN DROWN DROWN DROWN–)

Tears bite the corners of my eyes. 'Just give it back.'

Evil! Evil! Evil! Evil! Evil!

For what may be the first time in her life, Diwa is at a loss for words. She shakes her head, mute.

Evil! Evil! Evil! Evil! Evil!

'I need you to give it back,' I state, settling into monotonicity when growling fails. 'Please. Give it back and go away.'

I need to burn. I have to. To prove that I'm not evil, not yet. If I keep hurting, I can keep the Beewolf fed, keep the parasite from possessing all of me.

Evil! Evil! Evil!

But Diwa does not give me the lighter.

(My heart is beating really fast.)

It's your fault Nicolás (–WHAT IF–) doesn't have parents. They tried to nurse the evil out of you but it's impossible. You (–I–) drove them away and Nicolás will always be hollow because of it. Everything bad in his life is your fault. You don't know that you haven't (–KILLED THEM?–) killed them.

(–KILLED THEM? WHAT IF I KILLED THEM? WHAT IF I KILLED THEM? WHAT IF I–?)

Everything bad in his life is your fault? How do you know you haven't killed him too? Maybe he's a hallucination. The doctors said none of it is real. Don't you remember that? Don't you remember that? Don't you remember–?

Why would he be?

'I'm gonna get a teacher.'

'No!' My yell shoves into the floor. When did I end up hunched on the floor? My shins soak from the puddles of water that have collected on the tiles. My forehead too, held between my knees with my claws in my skull. 'No teacher.'

'Okay, well I...' Diwa's voice warps.

I'm hurting her. And what if I'm enjoying it? I can't prove that I'm not enjoying it. I can't prove that I'm not evil without the lighter, without something sharp.

'I'll phone 999.'

'No doctors.'

I have my teeth. I'll have to use my teeth.

'Fine. I'll phone your brother then.'

I pull my face up, glare at through the blood I've smeared onto my face, through my tears and the smoke and the flicker of flames.

You were born with something rotten inside you and she's going to find out. And she'll leave.

You killed your parents and you can't even remember.

'I hate you,' I bite. 'You're such a pest. You're like a mosquito I can't get rid of. Every time I have to be around you, it's like you're sucking my blood.'

'Well. Sucks.' Despite the fear that has her skin raised with goosebumps, the vulture is happy to peck at my carcass. 'Teacher, emergency number, brother. Those are your three options. Pick one.'