We haven't done much today. Got Pabs off, crawled back into bed, no books or writing this morning. We have been thinking about Baby Malcolm. It would of been obvious that was where we were heading that way with the stuff we have been working with. Integrating Baby Malcolm's existence with parts that came into being since then and reaching out to ones still stuck there.  It's was that that made us Scottish that got us in this state where we can't escape a sense of being victimised, hated and powerless and if we remember anything its only ever the bad.

  It was kinda cool in the hospital to go trigger big Malcolm a few times then take out our phone and ask again, "Where's the baby?" and see his flashback vanish and him smile as a child again and point to Pabs picture. "There's the baby." We did so well the to of us looking after and hiding him as two dissociated slave mental kids for as long as we did. He was thriving, we were thriving. Neither of us of has since. The autopsy guy used the word like Pabs health visitor used to, thriving. After he said it during the autopsy and over Malcolm all butterflied out he looked up at us and said something about it not being just that that made him think there was something different about this compared to all other kids I had taken to him. Then he looked at the guy and it clicked and he told us to get the fuck out the suite and we came to briefly and said something about not being well but what else could we do? Think we might of fainted and were carried out babbling after that but not sure we might of just turned turn round and walked out in the same haze we walked in.

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