It was impossible, Ariana knew it. If she had told when she
was 11 or even 12 or 13, maybe people wouldn’t have
blamed her because she was too young to know better.
15-year-olds were almost adults though and were meant to
be able to deal with things so much better.
If Jim was having sex with her sister then Ariana felt this would be her fault too. She was older, she should have been able to stop that from happening. She felt as if she was such a hopeless, incompetent person. Feeling so bad inside, she thought that she deserved for this to be happening to her.
At school, she became more alone. She was so wrapped up in her misery that it became impossible for her to talk to her classmates. She was so worthless and awful, she believed, that they wouldn’t want to talk to her anyway; it was easier to be alone. Lunchtimes were the most difficult; sometimes she ate her lunch in the toilet. Once people were moving about after lunch it was easy to lose herself in the crowd.
She wanted to die. She thought it would be better for everyone if she were dead. She still sometimes thought she might die – she felt like her shoulders had big weights on them, her stomach was always in knots, she often found it hard to breathe and when she had her period she bled and bled and throbbed all over.
At night she prayed she wouldn’t wake up in the morning, but she always did. She supposed God planned to make her die slowly since she was so bad.
She wondered how she could kill herself to speed up what seemed to be coming anyway. It seemed the only way to stop the pain. But what if it didn’t work? Her mind worked overtime thinking of what would happen if it didn’t quite come off. She spent many nights in bed lying and thinking about this.
Just before Christmas, she saw Miss Costello in town. When she got home, she thought again of telling. In her bag, she had packets of pills from the cupboard at home. For hours she wavered between telling her and taking the pills.
If Jim was having sex with her sister then Ariana felt this would be her fault too. She was older, she should have been able to stop that from happening. She felt as if she was such a hopeless, incompetent person. Feeling so bad inside, she thought that she deserved for this to be happening to her.
At school, she became more alone. She was so wrapped up in her misery that it became impossible for her to talk to her classmates. She was so worthless and awful, she believed, that they wouldn’t want to talk to her anyway; it was easier to be alone. Lunchtimes were the most difficult; sometimes she ate her lunch in the toilet. Once people were moving about after lunch it was easy to lose herself in the crowd.
She wanted to die. She thought it would be better for everyone if she were dead. She still sometimes thought she might die – she felt like her shoulders had big weights on them, her stomach was always in knots, she often found it hard to breathe and when she had her period she bled and bled and throbbed all over.
At night she prayed she wouldn’t wake up in the morning, but she always did. She supposed God planned to make her die slowly since she was so bad.
She wondered how she could kill herself to speed up what seemed to be coming anyway. It seemed the only way to stop the pain. But what if it didn’t work? Her mind worked overtime thinking of what would happen if it didn’t quite come off. She spent many nights in bed lying and thinking about this.
Just before Christmas, she saw Miss Costello in town. When she got home, she thought again of telling. In her bag, she had packets of pills from the cupboard at home. For hours she wavered between telling her and taking the pills.
