She thinks on what is meant by being human. In English there are many phrases built around the idea, connoting strength or vulnerability or fallibility.
They say things like, she's only human, and it is both an accusation and excuse. It is meant as an explanation and as such it offers a relief, makes her seem safer, more comprehensible.
There is talk of human error, as though machines do not fail all the time (she jabs her keyboard again with a frustrated finger), as though a mistake that can be compartmentalised as human is somehow more manageable.
And most bewildering, the word inhuman.
Abby shouted this at her once, furious at her long-practised calmness, as though hysteria and panic would somehow make her more human.
They said it again in hushed tones around her prone body after they found her and saw with their own eyes what was done to her, and it seemed the gravest condemnation of her captors they could manage, at least until Tony put his fist through a wall. But she knows better than most, that it is only humans who do such things as this.
And she hears Tony repeat the word again in a completely different voice, when she insists they cut the pain meds completely. This time the condemnation is tinged with a shadow of awe which he can't quite hide, impressed in spite of himself and in spite of his simultaneous conviction that there is a stupidity in her request too.
But – she can no longer tolerate the strange shifting distances between her brain and limbs, the feel of speaking and hearing through a padded room, because it brings her back into months of timeless haze, and for all its difference it is not different enough.
And maybe, she thinks, maybe this is what they actually mean by inhuman treatment – not acts which are inhuman to commit, but those that make another less human.
Too many boundaries have blurred, and now she is not sure what makes her human. Is it her will and control, her desires, emotions, choices (stripped away, one after the next), or merely this shell of flesh and blood, that suffers and continues to endure? And she's not sure, not certain what is left at all, but it is less. Less than she once had, less than she should have, less than she needs. She had nothing left to give but her life. She has kept that but now everything that remains is grey and shaky.
So no more pain meds, sleep meds, numb-dream-calm meds.
First post. Please please review. Advice, criticism, comments all welcome.
Marianne.