ABSTRACT
SHAZ (without emotion). Three years after I was taken into care my Mother died. I didn't feel anything. I thought. 'That's it then. My Mother's dead.' She'd not visited me in three years. I was in care because she put him before me. [PAT. Women's conditioning is so strong.] (Without looking at her.) You won't find any easy answers for this in the books you've read. [PAT. I'm sorry. Go on.] But when she died a feeling of hope went. Anyway several years later my Father married again. They had two children a boy, and a baby girl. I left care when I was sixteen. You
had to. I got a job in an old peoples home. I was - . Oh. I don't know. My behaviour was rather strange. I used to cut myself. Noone ever knew. They told me I was very good at my job. They had no idea. I was - it was like I was very cut off. I decided to look for and found my Father. He was pleased enough to be reunited. I baby-sat for them. They gave me a key to the house. Sometimes when I knew they were out I would let myself in and write stuff with her lipstick over the mirror. Tip her perfume over the bed. Smear body lotion into the carpet. One evening I was babysitting. (She stops.) [PAT. You, you killed the little boy?] [No.] I murdered the baby. Girl. I picked her up from her crib thing and held her. Squeezed her. Until she stopped breathing. When I knew she was dead, I sat down, turned the telly up and waited for them to come home.
