![]() ![]() ‘Wouldn’t that make everything a lot easier? You and Rachel could go together – support each other. ‘Why don’t you just take the treatment, honey?’ Her mother on the phone. ![]() Up ahead she sees red hair and a black shield. People running in and away, a whirlwind of rainbow and lead. She calls out, but can’t even hear her own voice now. Swivels her head, stands on her toes, frantically searches the crowd. ‘We’ve got to go, shit’s hit the fan.’ Her placard is on the ground, trampled into the asphalt, muddy footprints stamped over the large red letters: WE ARE NOT A DISEASE. The black wall of shields shifts, trembles, steadies. Lu can feel the air boiling around her, confusion and shock turning to anger, turning to rage. They killed him, they fucking killed him. Fuck those pigs! This was a peaceful march! He’s dead. Was that a gunshot? What the fuck is happening up there? Stand back! Keep away! Is he dead? Oh God, he’s not breathing. Shit, is he breathing? There’s blood, oh fuck, there’s so much blood. The crowd is a murmur, quieted by the shot, but growing louder now and building to a roar: What’s happening? I think someone’s hurt. ‘I’m a doctor! Let me through! Let me through!’Ī man pushes his way through the crush of people. She makes herself small, squeezes between explosions of grief, and slips out the front before the receptionist even presses the third zero. To the slaughter, Lu adds, as she watches the nurse walk briskly to the front desk and whisper something to the receptionist. Packed tightly into the waiting room wild-eyed animals, frightened lambs. Some still clutch placards to their chests like shields. There are others like her: begging, bloodstained, crying. The nurse shakes his head, purses his lips, radiating disapproval. Lu feels like the light is scorching right though her, right into the corners of her. She wants to look back, wants just one glance over her shoulder – wants to see Rachel in the doorway, silhouetted by the white electric light, glowing at the edges. ![]() Walks out the door into the wintry drizzle of the evening, hears Rachel call after her, ‘I wish you’d change your mind, Lu.’ She wants to scream and claw, wants to punch Rachel in the face, wants to kiss her, wants to say, come back to me, how dare they take you from me, how dare you leave me here alone, how dare you. Rachel gives an apologetic smile – sincere in a way that makes Lu’s stomach clench, makes her chest feel strangely tight. Her voice cracks in the middle, but she doesn’t have any room left in her to feel ashamed or embarrassed. You don’t know what it’s like, Lu – being normal.’ Smile too wide – it splits her face in half like a gash, like an open wound. There’s blood, warm stickiness in her palm. ‘Cured? What the fuck do you mean by that?’įists tightly curled. ‘She might’ve given – you know they might already have your name on the registry.’ ‘There’s only a slim chance,’ James says. ‘One moment.’ Doesn’t give back her passport. If I run. She knows she can’t.Įyes narrow. Eyes flick between her passport and her face. ![]()
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