Tourniquet

By Cursed Pearl

Chapter Two

Rating: Young Adult

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Two. Callie
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Mum never talks about Dad. Grandma lets me see pictures of him sometimes. I have one under my pillow right now. She says that I have his eyes. I don't though. My dad's eyes were grey: mine are blue. I don't know whose eyes I have. Maybe his brother's or sister's. Maybe I just have blue eyes, plain and simple. They don't go with my hair, I don't think. My hair's so dark it's almost black. They don't go with my skin either. No one has the same skin as me. Grandma has the same skin as my dad. Mum has the same skin as Nana.

I think that's why they don't like me. The other kids at school call me 'half-breed'. I don't know what it means, really. Mum's a Cross, Dad's a Nought. I think that has something to do with it. But I'm not a 'half-breed', Chloe Turner told me that all we have in the world are Noughts and Crosses. She's a Cross. The only one I know next to Mum and Nana. And Grandma's a Nought. So that means I'm nothing? 

They call me 'dagger' too. I know what that is. I've heard people shout it at Mum sometimes when we're in the street. When I told Chloe she said they're 'blankers'. Mum doesn't like that word. I'm not stupid, I know from the way she acted when I said it that she hates it. I don't know what it means, really. It's just what I call the people that hate me.

Everyone.

I have some friends. Chloe is one of them, so's Thomas, my only Cross friends. Jessica, Holly and Mark are my only other friends. They're Noughts.

I'm lucky. I don't think Mum has any friends. Except Chloe's mum. All she has is my grandparents and me. I catch her crying sometimes. She's not happy. I don't know why, but she's not.

I hear her and Grandma talking sometimes. She tells her when something bad has happened. She never tells me anything. It's not fair because I tell her everything. Except about the blankers. I heard them talking about me tonight. Grandma said I don't understand the word. But Chloe told me that's what they're called and she's three years older than me; eleven.

I pull the picture from under my pillow and look at it. Daddy. There's so much I want to ask you. You'd have all the answers, wouldn't you?

Do I have your eyes, Daddy? Am I a half-breed, Daddy? What's a blanker, Daddy? Why is Mummy never happy, Daddy? Why did you leave us, Daddy? Daddy? Why won't you answer me?

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