"Hello son." A familiar shadow stepped out of the darkness at the foot of 2-T's bed. He could tell by the voice that the intruder was a woman, but her voice was slurred and mad – as if she were a drunken psychopath. 2-T blinked a couple of times. He could tell instantly who it was, even if he hadn't seen her in four years. Mum? A glint of light reflected and he saw the knife in her hand.

"Don't scream, son, or I'll be forced to do to your father what I did 4 years ago." She whispered, raising the knife and extending it so 2-T could see it. The Bogstar's course changed, passing a star and light shot into the room. His mother's face was really pale, hardly blue, and her eyes were darting around in her head. She was crazy... 2-T screamed but no sound came out. She was going to kill him! The knife came down, ripped through his bed sheets, scarring him all over his body – tearing through his skin. Blood seeped through his bed sheets and he cried for Dad, but still he couldn't talk. His mother slowly massacred him, slashing him everywhere, but no matter how many times 2-T tried to call for help, his throat swelled shut.

"Night son." Shereem smiled, wiping the knife on her t-shirt and walking away. 2-T groaned, black dots swimming in his vision. Everything was going black... he'd lost too much blood. As if on a second thought, Shereem turned and punched the window (a big deal, because if you're in deep space you'd get sucked into oblivion and the room wouldn't be breathable) the glass scattered into 2-T's bed and he rolled over in pain, glass digging into his sides. Shereem grinned and left. It was lucky that they got 2-T to the hospital... even more lucky that he was still alive...

"But why do you hate your mum so much?" asked Ange, sitting next to 2-T on the couch as he told her his life story, trying not to sound like a veteran talking about the war. 2-T sighed and began to undo the purple zip on his suit. Angela went cold at first, but then saw the scars and her breath caught in her throat.

"Oh 2-T..." he had slash marks all across his body – he looked like Frankenstein's monster, dodgy stitching, large cuts, he looked like he'd had to be put back together. Angela fingered a particular scar, a pretty hefty one. 2-T flinched as she did so and turned away, embarrassed.

"And she did this?" Ange asked, her heart pounding in her chest. 2-T nodded and drew both sides of his shirt together, hastily. He didn't want to talk anymore; it wasn't such a good idea, after all. But Angela was still pressing questions, and you can't reassure Angela.

"I woke up and thought it was all a huge nightmare. But then I heard a clatter as some glass fell out of my bed, felt the blood dripping down my legs and I have no idea how I actually held on that long. I had about 20 gaping wounds and countless slashes across my entire body, even a few on my back. I finally found my voice and I screamed, somehow managing to sit up.

"My dad ran in and began to cry, pressing the Emergency Button on the wall (there's one in every room), calling the Hospital Ward to send some paramedics. In the night some blood had dried and was stuck to my skin. I was naked apart from my underwear, but obviously I didn't think about that then.

"I had to have seven life saving operations, all across my abdomen, where my mum struck me frequently. And... I needed a lot of blood. I had nearly died and I needed someone who was in the same blood group as me, with pure blood that would be suitable to me. That was when he stepped in..."

2-T stopped, gulped and bowed his head. Angela shook him in confusion.

"Who? Who gave you blood?" she screeched. 2-T looked around and saw his best friend, B.Bop, playing a game of Mouse Trap with Do-Wah. 2-T remembered – he felt his body was caving in around him, and then someone appeared at the side of his bed... a heaven sent angel? 2-T smiled. No... B.Bop looked up at him on the other side of the room and waved. 2-T did back. If it hadn't have been for B.Bop he'd have been dead. Angela followed 2-T's gaze and saw 'the donor'.

"Oh..." she murmured and smiled, clutching 2-T's arm in respect. That's why they're inseparable. That's why they're so close...

"Any how, my dad didn't press charges." Angela snapped to attention.

"WHAT?" she breathed, checking 2-T up and down. She must have heard wrong. His mother had tried to kill him, and his dad didn't press charges? Why not?

"He didn't do it... because he still loved her." He spat, bitterly. His dad loved his mum, still did. Stupid twat. Angela gasped.

"You've got to be joking?! First she stabs your dad in the arm, then knocks you're brother out and then stabs you with a knife? He's mad." 2-T shook his head.

"No, he's just in love." And he turned away. "Even if it is with the wrong person."

AUTHORS NOTES: Done! Tired, must go 2 bed. It is 10 to 11 (pm) and I am shattered. Night night!