Coral Hull: Prose: Gangsters: 17. down at the hospital

I MACKENZIE KNIGHT I A CHILD OF WRATH A GOD OF LOVE I FALLEN ANGELS EXPOSED I

CORAL HULL: GANGSTERS
17. down at the hospital

Frazer wriggled like giant maggot as he thumped into me. It was a moment of complete abandon for him, as I became a punching bag from behind. I wanted to stop him, but I knew that I couldn't and so I hid. The enraged part of me retreated until it was safe to emerge. For me it was a moment of protecting my face, of being a dead log deep in a forest floor. I thought the basic thought. I instantaneously simplified my life, all senses in a heightened state. My heart screamed out. 'Survive! Survive! Protect your face!' He laid into the back of my head, like thumping wood. He lost control and this is not love. He would have seen me curled up beneath him, my dark messy hair, knees pulled into my stomach. It would have been nothing much to look at, like he was hitting a snail with a hammer. But some people enjoy squashing snails. Meanwhile, Frazer the maggot had been venting his anger on his loveless mother and was temporarily satisfied. He experienced the sense of calm he would have felt if he had had power as a child. The feelings of sexual arousal and anger that he had felt towards his mother were now fulfilled. It had been two weeks after the knife threat. Although I had never stayed at his place with him again, I had foolishly re-entered the scene as the abused girlfriend. He remembered what he had done but began to deny it. At least he was honest enough to say that he wasn't sorry for what he did. He would only be sorry if it had caused discomfort to him. He felt sorry after I never spoke to him again. He was very sorry then. But the action itself had provided him with power and relief. So why would he be sorry for doing that? In the hospital he pretended to have a pain in his stomach and saw the doctor before I did. He was feeling very sorry for himself, as usual. Usually my attention was focused on him as well, but this time I clung weakly to the trolley, as six x-rays flashed across my suspected fractured neck. This time I was neither focused on him or myself. For seven hours I drifted in and out of the white haze of shock. 'What year is it?' they asked. I answered, 'Nineteen-seventy-five'. Then we had to wait for his false indignation to subside. After seven days he promised never to do it again, but that he was not sorry for what he did. Sometimes when he couldn't cope with his own cowardice, he said that I had bashed him. Then he wondered why I wouldn't see him again. Would you believe a meat-eater saying they loved animals with blood and gristle on their tongue and lips? I was shocked at first and afraid of venturing out. I immediately wanted the thing that had tried to destroy me to love me, although I knew that the tide had turned, in that this time I wouldn't forget so quickly. His arms around me would have at least given me the illusion of comfort. I could have pretended for a moment. But he never touched me in the hospital. I lay in emergency for seven hours. He ended up taking my keys and car and going to a cafe up in Lygon Street. There he read the morning paper, lit up a smoke and had a coffee, whilst I lay immobilised, with a bedpan under me, waiting for the psychiatrist. Now when I look back upon it, I was glad that he didn't care about me, because it was the truth. There was no turning back from the great truth. I got out of the hospital and caught a taxi home on my own. It was very hard, but I became a lot stronger this way. The healing process began to occur. If the body didn't know that it had sustained an injury, there would be no mending. It would be very likely that your whole system would be invaded as infection took over. If you know you have a deep sharp cut to the psyche, you can focus on it and change your present. The future will be changed in this way. But you have to be honest with yourself and give up on false hope. I had to give up on the hope that he would have touched my face in the hospital, and that he wouldn't have bashed me in the first place. But thankfully he didn't say, 'Sorry'. He said to the hospital staff, 'She hit me. I have a pain in my stomach. Could you give me a pain killer', and to me privately, 'I'll kill you next time'.

    

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