Читать книгу The World I Fell Out Of онлайн

37 страница из 98

‘What d’you want?’

It was Swinging Brick and she was pissed off.

‘I feel awful,’ I said. ‘Please …’

‘We’re busy with other patients. We’ll get to you when we can.’

I never cried out again.

Lots of other patients vocalised their distress; I listened jealously to them screaming and yelling, calling out repeatedly. I was too repressed, too polite. Posh girl in bedlam. It’s only funny now, much later. How I used to envy them their release, these unseen uninhibited souls who raged aloud, who set loose their pain upon the world at large. I wished I too could wail and curse. The way I’d been brought up, you suffered in silence, you were never rude, never made a fuss. There was one voice I often heard shouting at night – a young argumentative male who roared with anger and rage, despair coming from the deepest, darkest torture chamber. ‘Why?’ he used to shout. ‘Why can’t I fucking move? Just tell me why.’

I asked Christine about him.

She sighed. ‘Oh, that’s Snafu. He’s one of mine too.’

‘Is he OK?’