My names Aaron Livesy, I'm a murderer and you wouldn't want to know me if you had the chance. You probably know what I've done already so I'm not going to tell you. I can't tell you how much I hate myself. No one around me knows the extent of it and they keep talking about how I'll get into "kidnapping" and how I'll always trouble for my mother. They're always interfering in my life, what with my mother ringing John to tell him to lay me off and Zak and her plotting against me.

I can't do enough to punish myself, dragging my fist against a gravestone wasn't even a start, it hurt for a while but it didn't make any lasting damage. Even when I punched the punching bag it didn't hurt again. So I went further, cutting my stomach nobody knows yet, I almost got caught a couple of days ago just after I'd done it but I managed to hide it. The feeling when I cut or at least hurt myself is better than anything I've felt in a while, I'm almost happy when I'm bleeding because nothing else matters in that brief moment.

It's not just about Jackson anymore, I hate myself more than anything for that and I'm just a disgusting murderer who should be behind bars rotting away with the rest of the scum from earth but instead I'm stuck in some tiny village with an overprotective mum and a family that might as well be a bunch of dogs the bloody inbred lot they are. I hate my life. Working at a garage owned by my cousin being bossed around by Cain who thinks he fucking rules the roost. When I cut I'm petrified in case I push too far, no that I don't want that, I just need to hurt for a bit longer before I even try that.

Why didn't we give Jackson longer, he just needed a bit longer to adjust, he hadn't even tried, not that it's his fault, and we mollycoddled him till he felt so suffocated that he wanted out? Pretty soon I'll want out, not just to stop hurting, but to make sure I've really hurt, it'll be slow and painful if it really happens.

I just hate myself, why can't I just be like everyone else, why do I have to go and ruin people's lives. First my dad's, then Jackson's and now my mums. Oh and Hazel's. Nobody would miss me; they'd all be able to get on with their lives without the pain and misery of having to put up with me.

I don't want people knowing I hurt myself, what would be the point in that, people just trying to 'help', trying to make me stop, I don't want to stop, I want to carry on, I want to make it worse, because it hurts me for hurting everyone else. I m sure I was just put on earth to hurt people. I should just run away and leave people well alone. When I passed out after helping John and Adam it felt so good to collapse and feel pain that I d inflicted without any marks or signs that people could nag about. The feeling of my head hitting the ground before I could stop myself falling. The bruises along the side of my chest and the pain I get when I rub my fist against my ribs. When I went to bed last night, lying on that side of my body just caused constant pain and I went to sleep happy, knowing that I was hurting and nobody else was because of me. I wouldn't expect you to understand.