People can time travel inside their heads.

Remember into the past.

Imagine into the future.

But sometimes you can’t escape the now.

I’m being carried like a piece of meat.

First has my wrists.

Second has my ankles.

My head tips. My body’s limp.

Can’t run. Can’t fight. Only endure. Like always.

They put me on the table. The one made of sticks.

They leave.

I’m not alone. Never alone.

There’s breathing in the shadows.

Low, heavy breaths. The Feed.

Something about him is different.

I don’t know what.

His palm presses against my stomach.

His fingers rip my flesh.

He digs for my soul.

It’s harder for him to find colours.

He’s taken so many.

He has to go deeper.

His hand brushes my spine. Grabs hold of a colour. Yanks it out.

A scream tears through my body.

No sound comes out of my mouth.

It’s all locked inside.

With everything else.

The pain is too much.

My brain shuts down.

When it turns back on I’m in my room.

I try to move my fingers.

They twitch. The drug’s worn off.

My hand is all grey.

My arm too.

I’m turning into Crow.

‘Why do you keep fighting?’ she asks. ‘You should be a dead girl!’

Makes sense.

If I’m dead inside, I’m free.

No.

If I’m dead inside I’m dead inside.

I say the words:

‘Granny …’ Trudy Catching.

‘Nanna …’ Sadie Catching.

‘Grandma …’ Leslie Catching.

‘Mum …’ Rhonda.

‘Me.’

Crow joins in. But she adds new words now.

‘Isobel’s Granny. Crow’s Granny.’

‘Isobel’s Nanna. Crow’s dad.’

‘Isobel’s Grandma. Crow’s friend.’

‘Isobel’s mum. Crow’s mum.’

‘Me. You. Us.’

Her people and mine carry me into sleep.

The door scrapes.

I wake.

Fetchers. Bread.

I eat.

But my arms drop to my side.

My legs give way.

No! It’s never twice so close together.

Then I realise what was different about the Feed.

His eyes weren’t mirrors.

They were chips of brown stone.

There’s not one Feed.

There’s two.