The Problem With Crazy Read Online Free PDF Page B

vodka.
    Then, it was horror-movie therapy time. Tarantino, Rodriguez … I rented them all online then watched them, back-to-back, like a junkie. I started to close my eyes once, and then quickly pinched my arm, forcing them back open again.
    After two am, I switched from cola to Red Bull to keep the adrenalin pumping through my system. Slash, slash, slash. Stab, stab, stab. All this pain on screen, blood, gore and guts, distracting and enveloping me with its all-encompassing hideousness.
    I had to stay awake. I couldn’t fall asleep.
    You never fall asleep in dreams.

    I woke to a piercing shriek, undignified, contrasting and loud. I managed to narrow one eye open into a squint. Light blasted from under my curtains and I saw my room: the boxy shape of my desk, my laptop, the plastic wrapping from the Tim Tams.
    I identified the phone on my desk next to the computer as the nearest noise source I could control, and pressed “cancel” on the incoming call. Stacey could ring back another time. My laptop was right next to my phone, so I grabbed it and slammed the lid shut. I had no idea how long the intro music to Planet Horror had been looping, but judging from the way the tune continued in my head even after I turned it off, I’d be willing to guess a long bloody time.
    “Kate, honey? It’s time to get up.”
    Mum’s voice was outside the door. I rolled my eyes. Why on earth would I want to get up? I didn’t have school to go to, and I—
    The previous night’s events came flooding through my mind like a highlights reel on a DVD. Dad had a terrible disease. He was going to lose his ability to speak and move, and be normal. He’d need permanent care. He was going to die. And, oh yeah, it was hereditary. So there was a chance I’d end up with it, too.
    I groaned and threw my head back down on my pillow. Happy end of high school to me.
    “Kate? You go on tour in two days. You need to get up and pack. Have you finished packing?”
    I looked around my room, surveying the half-filled suitcase. Was “kind of” a good enough answer?
    “Katie, I’m coming in if you don’t reply soon.”
    Mum’s definition of the word “soon” appeared to be approximately ten seconds, as that was how long she waited before bursting through the door, concern etched all over her face in her worried eyes, and thin lips. She sat down next to me on the bed, the crinkle of plastic wrappers celebrating under her feet.
    “You know, chocolate is never going to solve your problems.” Mum picked up the rubbish and placed it in the empty trashcan next to the bed. “I would have thought you, of all people, would know that.”
    “Mu-u-um,” I groaned. “You know I don’t care about that stuff.”
    “I’ve told you before, you’re beautiful now, but in your early twenties … the weight just starts piling on, if you’re not careful.” She tutted and shook her head.
    “What does my weight matter if I’m going to die?”
    “Oh, Kate.” Mum wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me loosely across her lap. “There’s only a fifty per cent chance of that.”
    “So, it’s like flipping a coin?”
    “More or less.” She sighed and pulled away, studying me. “I know you’ve got a lot of thinking to do, but you’re about to go on tour with the boy you really like—don’t let this stop you. Your dad is going to be here when you return.”
    “He’s moving back in?”
    Mum nodded, a movement so minute it was almost imperceptible.
    “He left, and you’re just letting him back?”
    “He left to protect us from what was happening to him.” I leaned in closer to hear her speak. “And he—he’s been through so much by himself. We have to be there for him, now.” There was no anger, just hurt in her eyes.
    “So, now what? Now we need to live with it?” I bit my lip. He was still my dad; I didn’t mean to sound so bitchy, but ... I didn’t know how I felt, about any of it. “I just don’t think it’s going to be as easy