Simone had a tuition class that day, and was staying till later. RC walked herself home, kicking one pebble all the way. Her side really hurt. A lot.

"Raina Claire!" Her mother called when she got home. "You home?"

"Yeah," she called back loudly, silently adding, "it's RC," and tossing her shoes at the front door.

"Come help me, will you? I'm in the kitchen." Came a busy preoccupied reply.

"Right," RC said, mostly to herself. She slowly limped to the kitchen, where her mom was juggling a bubbling stew on the stove and several batches of minced meat pies.

"Hi mom," RC greeted, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. As a precaution. Lest the wounds be seen.

"What did you have for lunch today?" RC had been expecting this. It was a routine. Almost.

"A bag of chips," she replied, perching herself on a seat around the breakfast table.

"What?" Her mother looked up, a frown carved into her smooth fair forehead. "You really don't care about you body, do you?"

RC only stared. Straight ahead at a spot on the wall. She had heard this so many times before, it felt like a skit. RC could say the words along with her mother. Her mother kept going.

"No, really. What is wrong with you? Weren't you on a diet? I can't believe you."

"Mom…" RC tried, but her mom cut her short.

"And why are your clothes all over the place? Your room is an absolute pigsty!"

"You went into my room?" RC asked defensively, secretly glad that she had wiped up the drops of blood off the floor that morning. "Mom, we had a deal."

"The deal was you become responsible, and I give you your space."

"Well going into my room without my knowledge isn't exactly giving me space," RC retorted, feeling tired, upset, giving up. She stood up.

"Hold up your end of the deal first. I don't see any sense of responsibility from you, at all." Her mother ranted, stirring the pot on the stove.

"Mom stop," RC replied, walking out of the kitchen and heading upstairs to her room.

"Raina Claire, I'm not done talking to you!" Her mother shouted.

"It's RC!" RC shouted back, slamming her door, and collapsing on her bed. She massaged her sore side.

No one understood.

At least that's how it felt. RC held back tears and screams, popped down a painkiller, broke a few pens and got down to her homework.

It was not until she was halfway through her second essay that she remembered the boy from lunch who had agreed to see her after school. He probably bailed out on her. Which was the right thing for him to do, RC thought. Nothing good ever came from being associated with her.

Still. He had seemed… genuine.

But whatever.

Dinner was a tense affair. Her mother ignored her, only pursing her lips when RC reached for a second helping of rice and stew.

Her father told her off for dawdling at the table too long. "I've never seen you studying, no wonder your grades are slipping. Stop wasting your time over food and get moving already."

RC only nodded. That was all they knew. It was enough. At least RC felt it was enough.

At ten, her mother went around switching off the lights and locking the doors. RC got into bed, fully aware that she was going to be out of it within the next two hours. She squeezed her eyes shut when she heard her mother open the door and check on RC.

When the coast was clear, RC sat up and hugged her knees at her chest. She was severely sleep deprived. But she couldn't help it. She could not sleep. She did not want to sleep. Both. She wanted the night to envelope her in its quiet dark comfort. She felt empty. Hollow, even.

Slowly, she threw off the blanket and got out of bed. She was not sure what she wanted to do next. All she knew was that she could not just sit in bed and wait out the night.

Making sure her door was locked, RC turned on her bedroom light. It felt odd. Strangely lit up. She liked it and disliked it all at once. Taking a deep breath, RC stood in front of her full length mirror and observed herself like an alien specimen.

Her mother was right. Her thighs were hideous! And was that...Was that a flab, developing on her upper arms? She felt round. Like a football. Or a beach ball. Either one. Or both.

She thought about what Brent had said. She thought a lot about what Brent had said. She thought about what he had said until his words rang in her ears. In her brain. Inside the empty spaces in her head. 'Go kill yourself.'

She pinched the skin at her waist unconsciously, still thinking of what Brent had said. She smiled. Manically. Oh well.

She looked down at her feet and retreated slowly from the mirror as though it were her enemy. She switched off the light and reached for a scrap paper and a pen.

Today though, along with the bug spray, she took her iPod too. Settling into the coach in the balcony, RC tucked the earphones into her ears, sprayed her vicinity, and stared at the blank paper in her laps.

She tapped the pen on her temple. Rhythmically. Madly. Therapeutically.

Then, like a possessed creature, RC began to write.

Blood sweat tears

All that I can offer

Days months years

What more can I suffer

Friend of darkness friend of light

Rip kill shred

My soul up in the night

Rip and rip and rip till you see the red

Let me bleed

Let me bleed

Let me bleed

Deservingly dead

By now, RC had began to cry. She crumpled the paper and threw it across the balcony in anger. She pulled her hair, she scratched her arms.

Nothing helped.

She broke the pen clean in a half before she realised someone was watching her from across the street.

It was the boy with the light brown eyes.

Immediately, RC felt self conscious.

Had he seen her crying? She stood up quickly pulling the shirt she was wearing, which was a few sizes too big, over her bare thighs.

He regarded her sleepily. RC wondered if he felt self conscious too, standing there as sure as day in nothing but his boxer shorts. She guessed not.

Quickly pulling the earphones our of her ears, RC retreated into her bedroom and headed straight for her bed.

***