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The knife sticks fast. The adrenaline burns and I am sharp and alive and the clearest I’ve been since yesterday’s breakdown.

“Do it,” I’m saying. “I know you want to.”

But now that it’s out of my mouth and the knife is in the counter, and I’m looking up at Mom with her twitching lip and curled-up fists—

I think I hit a real nerve.

“Controversial” Hexagon Productions Under Fire Once Again, Concerns Raised About Privacy, Ethics

By Rachel Simpson

January XX, 20XX

Hexagon Productions, an independent filmmaking team known for controversial documentaries described as “exploitative” by critics, faces another round of accusations.

Concerns were raised two years ago in the wake of Bloodsport 71, an insider look into gladiator-style “prison fight clubs” organized by California prison staff, after the team was accused of spreading rumors to “piss people off and get better s— for the camera,” according to an anonymous inmate.

Now, Linda Walters—subject of 20XX film Mother of a Monster: A True Story—is accusing Hexagon Productions of breaking contract rules regarding filming, harassing her and family members, and revealing sensitive information without consent.

Read more …

I got what I wanted: Mom called the producer to let him know I’m joining the trip to USP East Early. But turns out, it doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m restless, and jittery, and can’t get the fuck to sleep.

It’s late. I have school in the morning. The photos are shut away in my desk drawer. Police cars down the street flash their lights, because there are always police cars this close to the Capitol, and the shadows left behind are odd and unsettling.

Worst of all, there are texts on my phone I haven’t responded to.

I have the distinct memory of sitting across from Dr. Lý, a week before the end of my court-enforced attendance, and admitting that, most of the time, human interaction felt like an insurmountable chore. I hardly ever came out of it feeling understood or seen or connected in any way—only tired, only ever going through the motions to get what I needed. My parents had reached into my brain and ripped out whatever it is that makes people social animals.

FK

did u get ur mom to agree????

And:

Daniel

Holy shit, that was a rough one earlier. You good?

And:

Alyssa

Hey! Just wanted to check in, make sure everything’s ok :)

I know the documentary is probably, like, a whole Thing and you don’t handle Whole Things v well

no offense though!!

I just know you is all

I’d rather open my second-story window and drop my phone onto the concrete porch than text any of them back.

So, instead, I take all my limited-edition SmarTrip cards out of the nightstand and lay them out on my bedspread, trying to find a second of calm in carefully arranging them just so. The annual Cherry Blossom Festival cards; the Silver Line commemorative; every fortieth-anniversary variation Dad collected for me when I was little; the Panda and Frederick Douglass editions I found on eBay.

Sitting right there, at the top of the pack, is the same cherry blossom card that Jane Doe had. I pick it up and drop it onto my nightstand, but it doesn’t make the same noise.

I watch the train tracker on the Metro website. I trawl through my catalog and turn on Netflix to find the TV episode I told Felicity about, the one I hate. Season 28, Episode 7: “The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far.” “Fiction,” “video,” and “fuck you.” By one in the morning, it drones in the background while I stare at my bedroom door, trying to figure out if there’s any way for the lock to get stuck. It’s never gotten stuck before. I’m convinced it will.