Season: Autumn
Weather: Drizzly still, I think
Day of the week: Friday
Date: 15th March, 2024
I woke to the sound of Chef's roar. And then I saw blood spattering and spurting across the floor from where I lay in the torn rags my clothes had become. I couldn't move. I was too tired. Too sore. Could only watch blinking as blood splattered on and around me and the sound of Chef's son squealing like a pained pig could be heard.
And then Chef was patting my cheeks, putting his hand in mine, trying to elicit some sort of reaction from me. I had tried, but I was so tired. He wrapped a blanket around my body, crying and calling my name.
Two ambulances came.
One for Chef's son. One for me.
It sounded like Chef's son was on the brink of death from the flurry of activity around him. The paramedics were so gentle with me, although I didn't talk to them. I just watched them with quiet detachment, hoping that the weird sort of numbness in my body wouldn't give way to any more pain than I was already in. I didn't want to feel.
Anyway, here I am back in hospital after a good rest. The hospital have given me medication and some police even questioned me, asking me for details. I didn't really want to talk but they read my journal and realised kind of what was going on. I felt forced to give up more details after that and have buried my head in the blankets every time someone has visited after that.
The dark shadow lord sent a nice and quiet woman to watch over and care for me, but all the people who really matter have been glaringly absent. I shouldn't care, but I do. I shouldn't mind, but I really miss them.
After everything, it seems I am on my own again. It's only right. Only to be expected. Who would want to be friends or acquaintances with a dirty defiled person like me anyway? The likes of me are only ever used and abused.
I don't know what to do with myself. If I can trust myself.
I've really had enough. Enough of this life. Enough of the world. Why am I still here?
I can't stand. I can't walk. I need help going to the toilet. I'm so angry. So ashamed with myself. So frustrated that no matter what I do, it seems to be the wrong move. No matter where I go, it seems to be just as dangerous as the last place.
Is there really no space or place in the world for a girl to live her own quiet life?
How am I supposed to face Chef now? He's probably never going to want to see me again, is he? I feel bad. I've ruined his relationship with his son for good. I shouldn't have been willing to go go home with him. I had forgotten all about his idiotic son.
It's my own fault when it comes down to it. My own fault for being weak and easy for people with bad ideas to control.
When I can walk again, maybe I should just get up and leave. Then nobody will have to worry about me anymore and I will be out of their hair. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.
For now, I will continue to pretend that I don't mind them reading my journal. For now I will pretend that I don't want to snatch my journal back from those gossipy prying eyes to impulsively burn in in a blazing flame to hide all the secrets back under the rug where they've been swept.
Why do I have to tell people what I'm am feeling and thinking? Why do they need to know? Just because they think my perspective of the world is skewed and needs correcting? Just because they feel the need to tell me what I am thinking or feeling to make themselves feel better about how the world should be in their opinion? Just because they think my withdrawal from the world is selfish?
Can't a girl throw a tantrum? Why can't I be angry? Does everyone have to throw a tantrum in the same way that they expect with legs kicking, arms hammering, voice shouting without a care for shame, letting the world know? Why would I do that and disturb the peace of other people?
Far better to go somewhere private, quiet and tear something harmless and cheap to shreds. Far better to do something productive and scrub a stove and the range hood or bathroom and toilets clean. Maybe weed a garden. That would be much more use than throwing a childish tantrum, kicking and screaming. Tantrums are useless. A waste of energy.
Will anybody come to visit?