NOT MYSELF
Fonto the sofa, I pointed the remote at the television. Flicking through TV channels, I sighed. What’s wrong with me? I thought, feeling miserable.
It was my day off from college, and I was home alone.
My mum Tracey, 46, and stepdad Tony, 46, were at work, and my 17-year-old brothers Samuel and Charlie were at school.
Normally I was so productive on my days off, but I just didn’t have any energy.
Maybe I’m coming down with the flu, I thought.
When Mum came home later in the afternoon, I was still vegged out on the sofa.
‘Are you alright?’ she said, feeling my forehead.
‘I don’t feel well,’ I said. ‘I just feel like I’ve been kicked in all of my joints.’
Mum frowned, and then I saw her focus in on my arm.
‘What’s that mark on your wrist?’
