“LIZZIE, SWEETHEART, ARE YOU UP?” MAMMY WALKED INTO MY ROOM AND SIGHED when she saw me still in bed. “We talked about this.” Closing the space between us, she sat on the edge of my bed and gently stroked my hair. “You have to get up for school, baby.”
“I’m so tired,” I croaked out, feeling like my arms and legs didn’t work anymore.
“That’s because your body is getting used to the new medication,” Mammy explained. “You’ll feel better soon.”
“I don’t want to be me anymore.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m bad.”
“You’re not bad, sweetheart.”
“Yes, I am.” I blinked back the tears filling my eyes. “That’s why you give me those tablets. I heard Caoimhe and Daddy talking about it. It’s because I’m crazy.”
“No, Lizzie, no.” Mam cupped my face in her hands. “You are not crazy, sweetheart. Do you hear me? You are perfect just the way you are.”
“Then why do they hate me?” I sobbed, turning my face away. “Why does everyone look at me funny?”
“They don’t hate you, sweetheart, and nobody looks at you funny.”
“They do.” I sniffled. “I know.”
