Touch. I can't help but desire to be hit and berated sometimes. I was thinking because it's familiar. I've said because it makes me feel. The eternal veil of numbness is pierced. Is that only because I don't let myself be touched. Is it because I don't show my skin and all that's underneath it. ... My brother chases me, trying to kill me. Police aren't helpful whatsoever. They're even a bit careless and wave their guns around casually. I'm weighed down by my thick jacket. My brother throws knives at me. I beg neighbors to help somehow, but no one does.