I really like music. It's an escape. But, I've mostly been okay. I've kept my room tidy enough, I've been doing lots of art and writing, the things that make me happy. Overall, I'm performing much better than I thought I would be.

'Cheri, can you please change those socks? They're odd,' Alexis asks me, her face weary and tired. She's been like that for a few years now, always stressed and on edge. I think it's because she doesn't want to lose us. I get it, but I take quite a lot of blame in the house. I miss Ashton sometimes. Things are different without him. More quiet but more loud, if that makes sense. We're going over to his and Kristoffer's house. It's weird but I have to do it.

'They will not care. They have literally murdered people, I doubt they'll worry about that,' I shrug, fixing my hair in the mirror.

She lets out a sharp sigh, 'Now, please.'

I don't want to. And it's silly to get fussed over, but I am. I change my socks to fit the guidelines of society. As I walk past the mirror, my eyes snag on my body. Two eyes, disgustingly green like mould. A pair of small chapped lips, only good for talking back. Pinkish-red spots dotting my face like ugly bumpy freckles. Stupidly long arms and legs, like pieces of spaghetti. I look mainly fine today

"I've never seen a girl your age look so mature."

in terms of my body

"You're twelve? Wowww..."

which is quite rare

"Come on, kiss me. I know you want to."

Shut up. Fuck off.

Never mind. I'm the same old amorphous blob of disgusting insecurity. As I look into my own eyes, I feel nothing but hatred for the girl who stares back at me.

Girl? Person? Boy? I don't really worry about gender, even though I do. Whatever, it's all been a slushy mixture of horror since summer.

I get downstairs. Alexis stares back at me, looking down at my feet and nodding.

'Thank you. Wasn't so hard, was it?'

I just nod sweetly, grit my teeth and start putting on my shoes. It's a long drive to theirs, so I put on my headphones and blast music. I think it'll all be okay.

When we finally arrive, the wiry ginger man who greets us at the door, who was my father figure for most of my teenage years is wearing odd socks.

*

I'm having another one of my nightmares again. I always slightly know when I'm in a dream, but they always feel very real. I'm outside the skate park, my roller skates gripped in my hands. I see my friends inside: Orion, Charlie, Yosef, Quinn, and Jamie. I love my friends, sure, but I don't think I'll ever love someone the way I love Jamie. If I claim to, I have been replaced by a doppelganger and you should shoot me in the head immediately.

'Hi guys!' I say as I enter the park.

They don't look at me. They don't acknowledge me. They're having a conversation that they're so engrossed in that they don't hear me greeting them. I try to greet them again, but I begin to focus on what they're saying.

'And she's just so freaky looking! I hate to base friendships around looks, but...' Charlie laughs, flicking a blonde ringlet over her shoulder.

'Not to mention that she's a horrible friend. It seems like she's always complaining about something,' Yosef adds in, exchanging a look with Jamie, 'How do you put up with her, dude?'

'I really don't. I don't know why I'm even still dating her.'

A pound of brick slam into my stomach. I gasp like a possessed madwoman, clutching at my chest with cold sweat drenching my clothes and hair. My breath is fast, my chest rising and falling at a rate of knots. I look from side to side; I'm in my own bed, in my own room, in my own house. I must've bitten my tounge at some point; I can taste the familiar scarlet iron fluid at the back of my throat.

I didn't fully close my curtains last night. A ray of golden 6am Saturday sunlight hits the picture of Jamie above my guitars. I feel a sense of calm wash over me.

It was just a dream.

Jamie is the kindest, most talented, most pretty, most awesome person I have ever known. He loves me and I love him. Nothing can go wrong.

Right?

Right?

...

I feel like I'm wrong. I'm going wrong, like a clock or an oven. Broken, wires and electrical cables skittered around the place. Maybe dream Yosef was right.

How does he put up with me?