I was six when I first saw Blank.
I had heard about imaginary friends before that, of course. A bunch of my schoolmates had them. I really didn't. I would occasionally make up a talking bear or a dragon when around others of course, but that was just to fit in. I never saw a thing until Christmas when I was six, then there he was.
Even as a child, when I was supposedly normal, I never fit in well. I tried of course. In fact it was one of my obsessions. I bent over backwards to try to be what others were. But I was always the outsider, the last one picked. Before Blank, not even something imaginary would acknowledge my existence. So of course I welcomed him. I played with him and talked to him. He never exactly talked back, but he was good conversation anyway. For once in my life, I was happy.
I was seven or so when things began to change. Blank's patience seemed to be leading to something. Something he wanted me to do. And one day, he told me.
He opened up his arms, and told me to hug him.
They found me at the bottom of a ditch, bleeding out and suffering head trauma. I'm still not sure how I got there.
But that's when things started to go sour.