#amwriting, Finding Katie, Day 7
As you will have noticed, I took Sunday off. But, now I’m back 🙂 Today, seeing as Michelle Abbott made a special request, instead of giving a first line quote I will give you all a clue. The quote I am giving, comes from the Part One title page, and is the last two lines of a poem by Neverlandpoet…
“I killed someone, you see. I killed the girl, who used to be me.”
Can you guess what the book’s about yet? To help you out, I recap all the quotes:
1. “The nurse is asleep in the chair.”
2. “I stop moving and hold my breath.”
3. “Fast as I can, I snatch off the wires and stumble for the door.”
4. “We head for the dining room in silence.
I got away with it.
Becky and I sit together at the table, and I keep up a stream of banter—anything to hide how I’m feelin’. I need to find something, and soon, but I really want to go on the trip tomorrow. Gawd, why do they have to make it so tough?
It’s not like I want to hurt myself, well … you know, not like, hurt hurt. Just a bit of a scratch will do it. That’s all. Just a bit of distraction, to keep me going. I don’t want to lose it like I did the other day.
Dinner is awful. It’s s’posed to be veggie lasagne, but I don’t recognise it. The unappetising mush covers my plate, and I push my fork around aimlessly.
Afterward, Amanda—the nurse in charge—takes me down to the clinic. I know what’s coming. Guess I didn’t fool Sally after all. Sure enough, she checks me all over for marks or cuts or bruises. And I mean all over. Freak.
Mel would’ve been nicer about it. Roll on Monday.
“Happy now?” I ask, all stony-faced and hard-eyed.
“Mmmm.” Is all I get from her.”
5. “BOO!” I yell, just for the hell of it.
They both jump. Too funny. Sure beats morning TV.
Hours later, Melanie flops down into the chair at the foot of the bed. An exasperated sigh draws my eyes to her. All I get is a hard stare. Then she rubs at her already mussed hair.
“What the hell, Kate?”
I look away, back at the TV.
Melanie snatches the remote and hits standby. I stare at the black screen instead. She slams the remote onto the table. I stare at the screen.
“You’re being discharged.”
That gets my attention. Startles me into looking at her. Just for a second. Then I go back to the TV. Too late, though—she saw. I shouldn’t ‘ave reacted at all. Now who’s the daft cow?
I shrug and stare at the screen.
“Don’t you care what happens to you?”
6. “What idiot am I to think I can hide the kind of girl I am?”
©2015 Harmony Kent
Words written so far: 26,753. 🙂