7 May 2012
The man came round again, today. The Tall one, heart of black and eyes of grey. He calls himself a doctor, but I don't believe him. I saw her giving him funny looks, like she knew something, and daddy says that means she is suspicious. She's been teaching me new words every day, recently, and I have almost learnt to spell 'misnomer', which daddy says is a silly word that only 'ponces' use. That was before he got all Ill, though. Mummy looked very sad when we came up to see him today. He isn't allowed near people usually, but the funny doctor man said just this once, so long as we don't get too close. It's funny that we have to keep him in the attic now. He always used to hate it, because that was where grandma died, before I was born. He's so tired, nowadays. He almost never wants to play aeroplanes anymore, and when we can see him he just tries to tell me things, like how much he loves me, and how he promises he'll get better soon.
Mummy was very strict when he became Ill. She said I must never ever ever tell anyone about him, and that I have to keep it a secret. I can't even tell Benji, and he's my best friend ever, but mummy says if I do then they might have to take daddy away, and I don't want that at all.
He got ill about twelve weeks ago, and I know because I counted. Mummy says he's always had it and that it was just never as serious as it is now. I remember he came home very late once on one of his outings. He was all sopping and wet and dark, and I could only see part of him from behind the banister, but mummy rushed him upstairs and showered him and I think that's when he started being in the attic all the time. The police came around the day afterwards, and mummy told a White lie and said that he had run away. The police searched the house, but they didn't find him. Apparently, the attic has a secret door that you can't see, but I'm not allowed to know it in case I tell anyone, or in case I go up and see daddy on my own.
Mummy always has to blindfold-carry me up, and I'm not allowed to visit him unless he's feeling 'more himself'. We also have to take a gun, just in case, mummy says, which I think is really cool, but mummy also says it's horrible.
The doctor man is a man daddy's parents knew when he was young, and he visits every week to check up on him. I don't like him. He always has needles.
Daddy is usually very very pale, and very very tired and grumpy, but some nights he becomes different. Mummy says he's not daddy at all on those nights. I can't hear him, because of the sound proofing, but apparently he grows very big indeed, and roars and jumps, which daddy never does. Also his skin changes, but mummy never likes to talk about it.
We have to let him out on some nights. If we don't, he gets very 'confined', as mummy says, and he can't do what he needs to do, so he might get angry at us, and try to bite us, but he wouldn't mean to.
Usually it's just foxes and badgers he gets, but I still don't know about the night before the police came round. I don't get to see him when we let him go exploring, but I do hear him at night, flapping about and hissing, when he's being let out. He still knows who mummy is on those nights, but she's afraid he won't know me, so I can't see him.
Mummy rarely ever sees friends anymore. They all just sat there and said how sorry they were for her, and how they always suspected him of being 'one of those people', so she stopped talking to them.
I used to watch the news each night, but mummy doesn't let me anymore, since he first got ill. There was a rumour going round the playground of a giant silver bat-thing that was killing lots of cats, but mummy told me it was all rubbish, and that I shouldn't pay attention.
We bring him breakfast every morning, but usually he's asleep, so we just leave it and check his chains for scratches.
I wish he was better.
Daddy • Opuss № I