The Doll's House

95

Ruby lay in the darkness. She was sweating and shivering, her body reacting with confusion to the severe blood loss and fractured bones. She had lost consciousness early on in the attack, repeated rabbit punches to her face and neck ending the fight quickly. When she had eventually come to, the pain was kept momentarily at bay by the shock – and horror – of finding that she was still alive. For the first time in her life she truly wished she were dead.

Had he broken her jaw? Her ribs? She couldn’t tell. Everything hurt and everywhere was sticky – cloyed blood clinging doggedly to her mouth, face and hair. Why had he spared her? She had attacked him. Would have killed him if she had had more presence of mind. Would he come back to finish the job?

Suddenly Ruby was pushing herself up. She hadn’t thought to – she was acting on instinct now, the thought of more suffering driving her on. Pain coursed through her – shooting from her rib cage to the very centre of her brain – but she managed to get to her hands and knees. Immediately she vomited, but she was on the move now and paid no heed to that, turning away and crawling towards the bed. It was still propped up by the chair and seemed to offer her sanctuary now. Swiftly she scuttled underneath, pulling the blanket down around her, hiding her from view.

She wasn’t safe here, but it felt better to be concealed. Clasping her hands together, Ruby found herself muttering mangled prayers once more. Her words were garbled, their meaning confused, but the sentiment was clear. This time Ruby wasn’t praying for deliverance. She was praying for death.