The pain. Christ, the pain is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Everywhere. Flaring through my bones. Racing up and down my spine, a searing spear-like pain. Even breathing hurts. But at least I can feel everything. My arms, my legs, fingers and toes, I can feel them all. No numbness. I’m not paralysed. Not yet anyway. Maybe that’ll come later. I can’t even think about that, losing the use of my legs, spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair. I wouldn’t cope. Some people manage it but I’m not some people. I’ve been through enough, had more than my fair share of misery. I don’t have the headspace or patience for any more.
At first, I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t put it all together in my head, the terror and agony of the fall marring my thinking, blurring everything. But then it came to me, a sudden rush of realisation, what happened up there. I should have been more prepared, had more control over my fears. I thought I would’ve managed it better than I did. I’m a coward. Such a stupid, pathetic fucking coward.
Tears sting at my eyes. I blink them away. No crying. A baby as well as a coward, that’s me. Little saddo Adrian with his whining and crying because he had to climb up a children’s fucking playground apparatus. The others did it without missing a beat, but me? Too scared, too full of my own fears. That’s how I let it slip, my concentration. That’s how I missed it. It took a while for it to slot into place in my head, for everything to come back into focus but now it has, I’m almost certain I know what happened up there. I can remember what she did. What I don’t know is why.
‘Adrian.’ Ruth is kneeling beside me again. She places her tiny cool hand over mine and more tears threaten to come at her small acts of kindness and her unobtrusive, thoughtful ways. ‘Are you absolutely sure it was Yvonne who undid your clip?’
I see the doubt in her eyes, her wavering expression. This is a big accusation I’m making here. Huge.
She leans closer to me, whispering into my ear. A medic tries to get her to step aside. Ruth uncharacteristically bumps him away with her hip, her voice stern. ‘Allison was up there with you afterwards, wasn’t she? Are you absolutely certain of what you’re saying, Adrian?’
And all of a sudden, I’m not. I thought I was but now everything has become vague and hazy again, those few seconds cloudy and distorted in my mind. God, what have I done? I’ve said something terrible and now I can’t unsay it. Was it Yvonne, or was it Allison? Or in my anger and confusion, did I do something to the clip? I was clawing at the ropes in panic, my body swinging wildly. Maybe I did this to myself?
‘I-I don’t know. I could have sworn she was mad at me because I pushed her away, wouldn’t accept her help. I was embarrassed. I wanted to manage on my own. God, Ruth, maybe it wasn’t Yvonne. Maybe I did it myself without realising it?’
‘Or maybe the person who was up there after Yvonne did it? Come on, Ade, think!’
She is patting my hand now as if trying to shake the memory into my mind, sifting out the unwanted stuff until we get to the nub of the matter.
‘I don’t remember, Ruth. I’m sorry. I thought I knew but now it all seems so foggy and unclear.’
A tiredness washes over me as a cannula is placed into the back of my hand and a mask covers my face. Ruth is a speck in the distance, a misty circle of unfamiliar faces surrounding me, their voices soothing, a jumble of words floating around the air above me. The pain begins to ease slightly. At least I’m not paralysed. At least I’m not dead. At least I didn’t see Yvonne unclip me while I was up there. Or maybe I did. Surely not? Why would she do such a thing? Could it have been Allison? Or did I accidentally do it myself? No. I was frozen with fear. Can’t have been me. I think of Yvonne’s face as the allegation is fired at her, her features dropping, melting like hot candle wax. I think about what I have done, those words I said to Ruth. I close my eyes and pray for sleep to take me. Maybe after this is all over, death will seem like the easier option. Maybe I will end up wishing I had hit the deck and died, my spine snapping in two, my brain turning to mush.
I feel myself being moved, straps holding me in place, tight and reassuring. No more falling. I don’t want to fall again. Please don’t let me fall again.
Everything feels so far away, the voices shouting that she has run off and that somebody needs to go after her. Then Merriel is shouting that she will go and find her.
I think of Yvonne. I think of Allison. I think of Ruth. I think about the words that fell out of my mouth too easily, those accusatory words, and wonder what I’ve started, what can of worms I’ve opened. My eyes stay shut, my mouth zipped into a tight strip of anxiety. I want to stay like this, the way I did when I was little, and think the same thoughts, that if I can’t see any of it happening, then it might just all go away. Except, it didn’t. And it won’t. No matter how hard I wished, how tightly closed my eyes were, everything was still there when I opened them again and it will be this time. The bad stuff never leaves. It hangs around like a bad smell, poisoning everyone and everything in its wake.