A scraping sound, a creak and the bathroom door lock turned, the door slowly opening. I gasped as Susan stood in the doorway. Susan Percy, the tall and skinny ringleader who made my life hell. A permanent sneer on her pinched features as she looked down at ‘the country bumpkin’. I knew the other girls were as afraid of her as I was but craved her attention and would follow her wherever she went and do whatever she told them. There was no single reason for her hatred towards me, however, in the confined space of a care home others would lash out just to give them something to do, enjoying the feeling of adoration which stood in for the love they were missing.
“Hiding in here are you, bitch?” Sneering, she laughed, the other girls crowding into the room. “Thought a locked door could stop me?” Grabbing the showerhead, she switched it to cold and sprayed it across me, holding it in my face until I was gasping and spluttering, clothes soaked and breath short as I struggled to spit out the water I had swallowed. “You stupid bitch!”
Susan swung her leg back and kicked hard. I cried out as the blows rained down on me, first to my legs and then chest. Writhing in pain, resisting a reaction yet doubled in agony. The salty taste of blood in my mouth. I felt my hair being grabbed; my head swung back before it was smashed into the unforgiving porcelain of the toilet bowl. I slumped silently as the attack continued without me.
***
“You should have been watching her. She was left alone.”
I opened my eyes slowly, the voices cutting through the cotton wool and darkness in my brain.
“The stupid girl locked herself in, the door was still locked.” Oh, I recognised that voice, the shrill whine of Mrs Manderson one of the ones in charge and overweight, a wheezing tyrant who demanded total compliance. She was lazy, preferring to spend her time staring at her phone, presuming that all outside of her bubble was in good order.
“So, you left a venerable child overnight without checking on her and we only find out she had been attacked the next morning. For Christ’s sake Jean, how the hell do you think I am going to explain this to social services?”
I opened my eyes, the light was blinding, I lay blinking for a moment or two before looking around. A hospital ward. Immediately transported back to that night; a shudder went through my body. The accident, surly was in the past, this could not be happening again. I tried to speak but a mask muffled my words. I closed my eyes for a moment, just to rest, perhaps for just a second.
***
“Hello, Amanda?” I opened my eyes; the ward was quiet and a nurse was leaning over me. She was smiling warmly as she looked into my eyes. “Good, you’re awake. Haven’t you been in the wars?”
I paused, perhaps this was a war. It certainly seemed to be like that, I felt I’d had been injured in battle. My body ached, each breath caused sharp stabbing pains to cross my chest.
“How are you feeling? Here, let me give you some water.” She held up a glass. I sipped the cool liquid, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, looking down I saw my hand was wrapped in bandages. “You took quite a beating. Do you remember? You may have some concussion.”
I shook my head which lit more fireworks of pain. I grimaced. The nurse held out a small pot. “Here, take these, they will help with the pain.” Washing down the pills with a mouthful of water I closed my eyes, wishing the pain would subside. It seemed like a lifetime before I was able to drift into a fitful sleep.
***
“Amanda?” I woke with a start. Staring over me was Mrs Manderson. “Oh, you’re awake finally. Now, I want you to know that what you did was very silly. Locking yourself in the bathroom and then slipping and falling like that. You could have been seriously hurt.”
‘Slipping and falling?’ the thought crossed my mind. This was no accident, but it was clear that was how the picture was being painted. The closing of the ranks so that the management and staff get off Scot free.
“You are in a lot of trouble!” She snarled, shaking her head in disgust, no doubt at the fact that I had inconvenienced her by being in the hospital, there would no doubt be paperwork to complete and it would all be my fault, naturally.
I shook my head, the argument was pointless. Blame had been decided, the true perpetrators would be ignored. This was no longer an attack presuming a lack of care on behalf of the organisation but an ‘accident’ where I had created my own fate. I realised sadly that deviation from this agreed path would be denied, my word against that of the staff. I had been in this position before and knew to keep quiet if I didn’t want to have my life turned into a living hell.
“Yes, miss. I’m sorry miss.”
“Good. I’m glad that we have an understanding.” She coughed. “Now, I hate hospitals so I am going.” Turning on her heel she left the ward.
***
Days passed, one of the kindly nurses brought in copies of Horse and Hound when she discovered I loved horses. She would sit on the end of my bed and tell me of her mare, and how she was hoping to complete in local one-day events this season. It was an escape and I dreamed of having her life. Being free and not only with my own horse, but my own destiny.
I was leafing through the classified adverts in the back of the most recent edition, which she had dropped onto my bedside table while I had slept. I found an
