Thursday, 20 December 2012


They all wanna know why, but there is no reason, I just like it. So, they've locked me in here until they work me out. But as I've said there's nothing to work out, it's just the way I am. They ask me about my earliest memory. So I tell them about playing with a torch under the sheets. I was always fascinated with how the artificial light would warp my brother's face and cast freaky shadows on my wall. I tell them about watching the coal fire at my grandma's house; watching the flames dance. I tell them how bonfire night was always my favourite. It's all true, but I am not sure how it will help them.
The first thing I actually set fire to was a credit card; an old one my mum was about to chop up. I begged her to let me burn it. I dug a little hole in the flowerbed held the card over it and set it alight. Man, I loved it; the way the plastic responded to the flames, curling in on itself, spitting, cracking. I held it as long as I could until it burnt my hand and I had to drop it into the hole. That was the first of many 'little experiments' with fire.
I know I freak them out in here, Jesus, it freaks me out. But they don't understand me. I don't fit their profiles at all, not at all. How does a grade A student from a well-to-do family end up in a young offenders institute convicted of burning down a house?  
Man, watching those flames was so cool; calling 999, hearing the sirens, watching the engines arrive and then the organised chaos of fire fighting. It was like a football match, I was cheering on the flames and they were ahead for a while, but then the firemen drew level and finally won the battle. Two days later the police came for me. I wasn't surprised but my parents were. 
Since then I must have been interviewed by over 100 head doctors; firstly the staff here, then the old pros, determined to work me out and now the kids writing their Phd theses. 100 different doctors but they all ask the same question; how does a girl like me end up in a place like this.

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