so you think there’s something wrong with me? I deny it … I’m ok, and you’re ok. That’s a fundamental rule. The rule of acceptance.
the boy sat back in bed, red pock marks on his face, hands, legs – all the exposed skin – it was chicken pox. He was a teenager, he had caught it late.
the pain, the itching. There was one escape, into the world of novels and magic. The Magician. He would transport himself into that world, a world of elves and fairies, castles and feudal structures. A world of achievement and advancement, of greatness and grandeur. Yes, he would go there, and immerse himself, forget this miserable existence.
the pain, the scratching. He banged his head on the pillow. Pain.
it would buy him time. Time away from the school.