Page 71 of Kill Me

I click the penis four times. Not three, and not five. “Why four clicks?” he asks.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Never. So stop trying.”

“I think I may have a slight case of OCD, not diagnosed, because of course I was always told it was all in my head. But numbers are a big thing for me. If someone has the volume on an odd number on the TV, my heart feels like it’s going to implode. Like the entire world will disintegrate at any second. If I buy something for decorative purposes, they all must match, and there must be an even number. If one breaks or gets damaged, then both must get thrown away so that the pairs aren’t lonely. Even blankets, to a certain extent, must match in some way. It sounds stu—”

“No, it doesn’t. Keep talking.”

“It’s rude to interrupt when someone is talking, you know?”

“Not when they’re talking absolute fucking shit and degrading themselves into something that feels very real to them being stupid.” He laughs.

“You’re a terrible therapist,” I tell him.

“Only to the ones who encourage me to break my boundaries before their therapy is finished. You only have yourself to blame.”

The beeping from the machine that assesses my vitals increases, and he chuckles again. “Shut up.” I roll my eyes before continuing. “When I leave the house, I have to practise routines. Touching light switches, checking plug sockets, making sure furniture is evenly spaced so as not to cause a tripping hazard, even though no one is going to be home. Anything that could potentially be a danger, my brain catastrophises into the worst possible scenario.”

“That’s understandable considering your history. Do you know when it began?”

“If I had to put my finger on it, it started the day Eric came home after he was born. Something my mum said took my ability to feel in control away, and my life spiralled. Up until that point I had been so excited for a baby brother or sister. I thought we would be best friends, but those moments were few and far between even before he could walk. He was like my mother’s possession. There were no touching-without-permission rules. People couldn’t comfort him because they couldn’t do it as well as she would. But I think I would say that day is where it started, and after my accident it increased; the inability to remember something that had damaged me irrevocably was paralysing.”

“Well. I’m listening. Tell me everything you remember.”

The first time that I can remember hearing voices in my mind, I must have been about four. My mum hadn’t long given birth to Eric, and I remember them bringing him home like it was yesterday. I’d been over the moon when I found out I was going to have a baby brother or sister—I’d begged for one for my birthday, after all—but the excitement when I found out it was a boy was beyond anything I had ever known.

Until they brought him home. If I had known the regret that would consume my mind and the way my life would be altered forever, I’d have hunted down a time machine faster than you could say, “It’s a boy!”

Age 4 - 24 years ago

“Quinn, come here! It’s time to go home and meet your little baby brother!” Millie’s mum, Manda, shouts up the stairs. I’ve been sitting on my airbed in Millie’s bedroom, bags packed for hours, itching to meet him.

“Coming!” I thunder down the stairs just as the front door opens. I round the corner and in walks my dad. He’s tired, but his face is happy. The wrinkles in his face from all of the smiling are more prevalent, the darkness under his eyes less so. His eyes sparkle as I leap into his arms like it had been longer than yesterday since I last saw him. My mum has been angrier, more emotional since they announced her pregnancy, and I don’t understand it. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do; all she’s ever doing lately is shouting at me. It makes me sad. I miss my happy mum. The mum who would snuggle me when I was sad or sneak snacks with me when Daddy was sleeping, and I’d had a bad dream.

He lifts me up so my legs wrap around his waist, my backpack dropping to the floor. “Quinny! I missed you!” He kisses me on the cheek, drops me to the floor and thanks Manda as he turns to walk back through the open front door. I pick my bag back up and swing it over my shoulder. “Are you ready to meet the baby?”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m so excited!” We live next door, so I happily skip alongside him, my small hand clasped in his. I’m oblivious to the change in dynamics that comes with a new baby. Millie is an only child, so there haven’t been any other babies until this one.

“Does he have a name yet, Daddy?”

“Yes, Pumpkin. His name is Eric. He was born at 02.35 am and was eighteen inches long. He’s a few weeks early, so we have to be extra careful with him because he’s so tiny.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl.” His praise makes me happy inside. All I want is to make my mummy and daddy happy and be the happiest family.

We walk up our path, and Daddy puts his key in and unlocks the door. “Ssshhhh, Pumpkin, Eric might be sleeping.” I tiptoe in next to my dad, following him into the front room. My mum is lying on the sofa with a bundle of blankets on her chest. As I creep closer, I realise that snuggled inside is baby Eric. For a moment, my heart hurts in case she won’t snuggle me like that anymore, but as soon as his little face moves and he makes these little sounds, my heart melts.

“Wow.” I clap, bouncing up and down, unable to help the excitement that comes out when I talk.

“Quinn! Be quiet!” My mum scolds me. Maybe I was louder than I thought, but I promise I tried to be quiet.

“Sorry, Mummy. He’s just so cute. Can I hold him? Can I? Can I?” I bounce up and down on my tiptoes, with my best pleading look on my face.

“No, Quinn. You can’t. He’s too small.” She wraps him up in his blanket tighter as if to keep me away from him.

“But I promise I’ll be gentle.”