Part Eleven: The harsh reality

The first thing I noticed as I awoke was the dull beep of a heart monitor. The second thing was my leg, or what was left of it. I groaned as I tried to sit up, and instantly a nurse bustled in and started plugging and unplugging things. I looked at her hazily.

'Is this all for me?' I said, partially in awe. I motioned to the cluster of machines with their incessant beeping.

'Afraid so.' She smiled pityingly at me. I could see Mum standing outside, arguing with the doctor, who was barricading the door. Tess and Alex were holding her back, but as soon as she saw me trying to sit up she became more insistent. I honestly thought she was going to ram the doctor, or the door, or even both.

Thankfully, the man came to his senses and let Mum –and only Mum- in.

'How are you feeling?' She said, tears glistening in her eyes as the knelt by my side. 'I'm only allowed in here for five minutes, you've got to get your rest. You're in intensive care, you know.'

'What happened?'

'We managed to get you up.' Her voice was soft. 'I'm so sorry Charlotte, this is all my fault, it should never have happened.'

'Don't blame yourself; it was my decision to leave.' I said stubbornly. 'Now, what's wrong with me?'

'You've been operated on twice over the last couple of days.' Mum said. 'Nice racoon eyes you've got, too.' Her face twitched, and I wondered what she was keeping from me.

'Mum, what is it?'

'Your leg.' She said quietly. 'You lost so much blood, Charlotte. You were lucky to have the strength to hold on for so long.'

'And?'

'And…' she hesitated. 'They managed to sew you up pretty good. It was touch and go there for a while. Then yesterday you got an infection. It wasn't anyone's fault…' she stalled for time. I looked at her in disbelief.

'You don't mean…'

'Charlotte…' Mum took a deep breath. 'Charlotte, they had to amputate.' She looked at me anxiously.

'How am I going to ride?' I said dumbly, feeling my eyes well up. 'How am I going to work, Mum?' She just shook her head at me, not knowing what to say. She held my hand as I sat there, shocked. I couldn't comprehend…how…why?

I was aware of the doctor tapping on the window, and Mum giving him the dirty look.

'I'm so sorry, Charlotte. I'm really sorry.' She kept saying. I closed my eyes as they hauled her out. Then the tears began to fall, and the pain, oh god, the pain was something else.

I shook, I twisted, I yelled. Screamed my lungs out even. I had the biggest tantrum in my teenage career, but it didn't help. How could it, really? What could possibly help? Eventually I crumpled back onto my pillow, trembling. My teeth chattered and I guessed I was still in shock.

I pulled the covers over me best I could, but there was still a draft coming from the end of the bed, where my half leg was elevated. I looked at it, willed it to come back. I stared at it with utter hatred. Hatred for myself and for my stupidity. Hatred for the doctors who'd done this to me. Hatred for everyone.

And then I cried. I sobbed and blubbered, making a nice mess of the pillows and causing my face to swell up even more than it already was.

One of my nurses came in halfway through this little display, but didn't say a word. She held up a needle, which I stared at in fear. I've always been petrified of needles.

'It'll make the pain go away, and you'll be able to rest.' She promised. Miserably I tried not to yelp as she jabbed me with it.

And so, my life had taken a turn for the worse. Again. However, as Meg always used to joke, what goes down must come up.