Nothing happened in the hospital, not really, so I soon found myself back at home in the living room trying to persuade Kirsty I was ok to go to school. It had been a week since term officially started, and I knew that everyday which passed was another day I wasn’t settling in. she scowled at me as I twiddled my fork in the pasta. I was about to take a mouthful when she coughed causing me to drop the forkful. I looked down to scoop it up and Kirsty took it as a sign of laziness. Why? I don’t know, but she did, “Oh for heavens sake!” she stood abruptly and marched over to me, “When your done put it away! Look, its not hard!” she grabbed my as yet untouched plate and my collar dragging me into the kitchen, she slung me against the wall by the waste bin and I watched as my only meal of the day was tipped into the bag, ready for landfill. My stomach let out a growl, I clutched it in pain, this was the third night in a row she’d done this and I was starving. I only got one meal a day, and it nearly always accounted to nothing. Back up north she use to let me make myself toast in the morning, but not anymore, I was a ‘drain on her resources’ Eventually, after three days of pestering, she gave in and said I could go to school the next Monday, that was two weeks in to the term, but it was the best I could get. I didn’t eat anything apart from a bowl of soup between then and Sunday night, either down to me being too nervous to eat, or Kirsty deciding I didn’t deserve it. By half ten Sunday I was feeling weak and pathetic, not how I wanted to begin. I tipped the bottle of pills into my hand and took a couple with old orange juice I found on my desk. It still tasted vaguely of orange… clicking my tongue against the inside of my cheeks I pulled on my pyjamas and, having already brushed my teeth and showered, I clambered into bed, flicked out the light and turned my attention to the aching pain inside my stomach. I curled up into a tight ball as it dulled the twisting in my tummy and eventually I did fall asleep.