My thumb throbs, missing it's departed tip. Mother says something about blood getting to the severed nerves, this is how these things heal. She should know, but everything about her, the way she sits, the way she stares endlessly at the television to the way she sits happily sucking on a mango cheeks makes me want to tear out my hair. I want to scream. I want to throw things. I want. I want. I want.
Oh My God. It hurts. Each pulse, milliseconds after the one in my carotid makes me want to scream. I rest the injured hand, bend at the wrist, bend at my elbow and stretch my shoulder forcing my blood through a tougher terrain. Keep it higher than your heart it will suppress the blood flow. I want it to heal and I want the pain to stop. Resting unwholesome thing against my opposite shoulder.
The pain eases and I give in and reach for the pain pills and swallow. My vision blurs a little. I'm too all in my head and the Mother wont stop slurping and licking and I will hit her. I will hurt her. There's someone else in my head, someone who wants to do bad things, the worst to everyone around her. Bile rises and I wander, slowly, confusedly to the bathroom and crouch in front of the washing machine. I can smell my dogs behind me, can hear Coco twitching, humphing in her sleep, Columbus is quiet. I breathe and breathe and breathe. In and out. I turn, walk to my room and collapse into a fantasy world, put my head phones on and pretend I am somewhere else. Someone else.

Anywhere but here apparently.