Tasha could move around with the help of crutches by the
time she left hospital. Her leg and hip still hurt whenever she
moved. It was winter now. In the hospital it had been warm
day and night and she hadn’t even realised the seasons were
changing. Outside the wind seemed to blow right through
her. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so cold before.
Maybe it was because she was so thin. People had kept
telling her how thin she was but she hadn’t agreed with them
at the time.
She didn’t want to go home, but it was obvious there was no choice. She couldn’t run away with her leg in plaster. Even if she could it would be really miserable in the winter. Besides, what did it matter? What did anything matter? It didn’t even matter whether she lived or died.
The stay in hospital was the first of several for Tasha. During the following few years, brushes with death were almost commonplace. She had several bad experiences with drugs and frequently overdosed and was unconscious for hours afterwards. She was involved in a head-on collision with another car which left her with a permanent back injury and scars on her face. On another occasion she misjudged a corner when she had had too much to drink. The car plunged over a bank. Tasha was thrown out and suffered severe internal injuries.
Most people were sympathetic and told her how unlucky she was. Natasha knew this wasn’t so. Her theory was that she had been born bad. She deserved all this pain and suffering. She had been in the way ever since she’d been little. She had often caused arguments and fights. She had been angry and violent and caused lots of distress to her parents during the times she had run away, and she had been responsible for Darren’s death. No, it wasn’t unlucky.
With a list of sins as long as hers what else could she expect?
She would probably kill herself next time, or worse still, maybe she wouldn’t.
She didn’t want to go home, but it was obvious there was no choice. She couldn’t run away with her leg in plaster. Even if she could it would be really miserable in the winter. Besides, what did it matter? What did anything matter? It didn’t even matter whether she lived or died.
The stay in hospital was the first of several for Tasha. During the following few years, brushes with death were almost commonplace. She had several bad experiences with drugs and frequently overdosed and was unconscious for hours afterwards. She was involved in a head-on collision with another car which left her with a permanent back injury and scars on her face. On another occasion she misjudged a corner when she had had too much to drink. The car plunged over a bank. Tasha was thrown out and suffered severe internal injuries.
Most people were sympathetic and told her how unlucky she was. Natasha knew this wasn’t so. Her theory was that she had been born bad. She deserved all this pain and suffering. She had been in the way ever since she’d been little. She had often caused arguments and fights. She had been angry and violent and caused lots of distress to her parents during the times she had run away, and she had been responsible for Darren’s death. No, it wasn’t unlucky.
With a list of sins as long as hers what else could she expect?
She would probably kill herself next time, or worse still, maybe she wouldn’t.
