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they’d just ignored it, from me they’d know it was real and he meant business. And I said no. He looked surprised. So was I. I couldn’t imagine saying no to George Clooney. But this pad and this pencil are for writing to
George
, these are love letters to him only. I’m not going to write to my husband with them, that would be cheap and nasty. And George got cross again and said that if I didn’t write the letter he’d punish me, I wouldn’t be allowed to watch TV anymore and I said good, that plastic surgery thing was horrible it had given me nightmares, doing things to their breasts and to their lips, I don’t know how people can go through that. And he promised if I wrote the letter he’d buy me some butterscotch, he thought I might like that, and I said I’d write it if I got the butterscotch first and he thought about it and then said yes. So I’m locked in my room again and he’s at the supermarket and I’m having a nice dessert tonight and I’m meant to be writing the letter now but I’m writing this instead and I’m telling you now I won’t write the letter even so. I don’t love Paul anymore, I love George. When George took me I wanted Paul at first, and Jessie, and Daddy, but if they wanted me they’d have come and got me by now, they wouldn’t have let this happen. They don’t deserve me the way George does. And I’ll try and eat all the butterscotch before George reads this or he’ll know I was breaking my promise and take the butterscotch away, sorry George sorry. But what we have, George, is good and pure, and I can’t let you spoil that, George, I’ll doing this for you, George, it’s for you, George. When I think of what I wrote about you at first on that toilet paper it makes me ashamed. Hurtful things. I’ll never do anything to hurt you again.

    I’ve been a very naughty girl, and I’m sorry, properly sorry this time not like last time. And George was quite right to be angry and do what he did, and to be fair he only hit me the once and that was to get me to shut up. It’s not entirely my fault, though, I’m not trying to get out of it, but I’d never have thought of the pencil if he hadn’t put the idea in my head in the first place. But then George points out that I must have been writing with the side of the pencil, trying to sharpen it to a point, I must have been planning it quite on purpose, so I don’t know what to think. After I stuck the pencil in his throat I didn’t wait around, he was making a strange squealing noise I didn’t like at all, and there was blood everywhere. Besides I was trying to escape. I rushed for the front door and I think that’s where I made my big mistake, because it’s in a room I hadn’t seen before, I’d arrived with that blindfold on, and I wasted too much time looking around and taking it in. Then I remembered that George was behind me, I could hear the squealing closer, and I got the chain off the door and got to turn the key but didn’t get to do the bolts before he reached me. And I suppose if I hadn’t been distracted by that new wallpaper and stopped to count the stripes I might have got outside. As I say he only hit me the once and he didn’t break the skin, and I think that was fair because I’d certainly broken his there was blood everywhere I don’t like blood. And we didn’t watch
Friends
for days, and he didn’t let me have my pad and my pencil either, not for days. But the pencil hadn’t been that sharp, I hadn’t killed him or anything, and George is such a kind man he forgave me in the end. He gave me back my pad, as you can see, and he gave me back my pencil, but he makes sure that I only write when he’s there to watch, but I like that better, it’s nice to have his company. And we were watching the news tonight and something lovely happened, it said that Paul was dead. Paul was dead, and so was Jessie, and so was Daddy, and it was okay, it was all quite painless, they wouldn’t have felt a thing.