Post by Laura Richardson on Sept 8, 2010 15:48:40 GMT
Laura looked up, a bit worried that he’d actually noticed her nails. She examined them and hoped they’d stop bleeding in a second. Hoping she was behaving as if she hadn’t noticed before, Laura tried to shrug it off. They were painful, they looked horrible, but she couldn’t admit it. “No thank you.” She said politely, looking back at her drawing and fixing some shading before explaining. “They… look worse than they are.” That was true, they looked like a bad thing but they weren’t. They were just different. It helped. Although she didn’t think Doctor Hudson would like it if she told him so. Instead she went back to drawing.
“I don’t remember,” She said steadily. “My uncle said I was always drawing all over tings when I was a baby. All over the walls and everything. And when we moved here there wasn’t a lot else. To do, I mean.” She wondered what had happened to all her drawings when the police had taken her uncle. There’d been loads of them, in piles and on the walls and under tables, but no one had given them back to her. She wanted to ask Doctor Hudson for a moment, before deciding it wasn’t that important. “that wasn’t a bad thing,” she added hastily, remembering people often thought boredom was a bad thing. “I learned a lot. I can take care of myself. I don’t get bored a lot.” She tried to pretend she didn’t need people to tell her what to do. It wasn’t that… it was just she needed to know what she should be doing. She could cook and things. That was what she meant. If someone told her to make food, she could do it. Generally.
She leaned in closer to the fake real trees. Laura had never considered that not being allowed to walk around too much in the day because the downstairs neighbours might hear, not watching television or listening to the radio when her uncle wasn’t home just in case or staying away from windows or keeping the curtains shut mostly in the daytime was something really unusual. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t turn the lights on even if her uncle didn’t get home until really late either because she knew every inch. It had never dawned on her that people might find that, as well as the rules and beliefs her uncle had drilled into her, very wrong.
“I don’t remember,” She said steadily. “My uncle said I was always drawing all over tings when I was a baby. All over the walls and everything. And when we moved here there wasn’t a lot else. To do, I mean.” She wondered what had happened to all her drawings when the police had taken her uncle. There’d been loads of them, in piles and on the walls and under tables, but no one had given them back to her. She wanted to ask Doctor Hudson for a moment, before deciding it wasn’t that important. “that wasn’t a bad thing,” she added hastily, remembering people often thought boredom was a bad thing. “I learned a lot. I can take care of myself. I don’t get bored a lot.” She tried to pretend she didn’t need people to tell her what to do. It wasn’t that… it was just she needed to know what she should be doing. She could cook and things. That was what she meant. If someone told her to make food, she could do it. Generally.
She leaned in closer to the fake real trees. Laura had never considered that not being allowed to walk around too much in the day because the downstairs neighbours might hear, not watching television or listening to the radio when her uncle wasn’t home just in case or staying away from windows or keeping the curtains shut mostly in the daytime was something really unusual. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t turn the lights on even if her uncle didn’t get home until really late either because she knew every inch. It had never dawned on her that people might find that, as well as the rules and beliefs her uncle had drilled into her, very wrong.
