A friend of mine is here to type for me because I can't. Not after what Cheshire did. He just let me go when he was done with me, and I don't know why. I think he's done something to me. I keep throwing up every time I try to eat something, and my hair is falling out. Luckily my friends have been with me through thick and thin and it doesn't matter to them as long as they can help, and Sierra and Mab don't care about appearance as long as I love them and take care of them. Which I try. I've tried ever since I got them. But I just don't think I can do that anymore. I can't give them away. They're too young, and Sierra still hasn't recovered completely. It's not that I can't afford them anymore, but I'm scared that Cheshire will hurt them like he's hurt me. Or worse. He could hurt me so much worse, but he's saving his anger. "Six left," he said. So if a finger was one, and a hand was two, what's three? Four? Five? What happens at zero? I'm not a cat. I only have one life.

There's something I need to confess.

Kathleen Schrödinger isn't my real name. When I became an actress I took up a pseudonym that was more interesting than who I really was. I figured nobody would want to cast Emma-Sofia Mondegreen. But that doesn't matter now, does it? I won't be acting again any time soon.

I'll be back up to snuff soon. I hope.