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sense, of rationale, of any kind of pause mechanism. Her entire body hummed with it. Anger pressed itself into her, wrapping itself around her, causing her heart to speed up and her muscles to twitch.
    She was so mad she wanted to punch the nurse in the face.
    â€˜Now I know you say you’re not hungry, but you really should eat.’ The nurse indicated the tray of food in her hand. ‘The ward sister asked me to pay special attention to you this morning,’ she said, grinning. ‘Your chart shows that you’ve lost quite a lot of weight and with the surgery and your leg healing. I really don’t know how you cope with it all . . .’ The student nurse placed the tray on Kara’s table, prattling on. Her chatter like a cheese grater against Kara’s nerves. Her hands arranged and rearranged the cutlery.
    â€˜I’m. Not. Hungry!’ Kara said each word slowly, her mouth tight as the syllables made their way up her throat, across her tongue and out through her lips.
    â€˜Of course you are. Everybody is hungry in the morning. Take myself for instance; some mornings I have two breakfasts. After a night shift I make toast and then have an extra bowl of cereal. Oh not every morning, you know, I have to watch my figure.’ She smoothed her uniform over her plump waist. ‘So the kitchen sent down porridge this morning. I know it’s your favourite and you must be hungry so . . .’
    Was the nurse deaf?
    What the hell was wrong with these people?
    When Kara was hungry she would eat. When she was tired she would sleep and when she was angry she would . . . What? Assault someone? There was a desperate urge inside her to rip at something, to tear, to strike, to pummel . . . the frustration and unfairness of her situation stung the back of her throat. She remembered after her father and the police report, she’d been so mad. She never meant to set the chemistry lab on fire, it had been an accident. But her anger had made her do stupid things.
    â€˜. . . if I were you I would eat several times a day for strength. Those cells in your body . . .’
    Something inside Kara flipped.
    â€˜You stupid, deaf moron! I told you a hundred times, I’m not fucking hungry!’ Kara lifted the tray and, with all her might, hurled it across the room. The bowl of porridge crashed into the wall, smearing a trail of gloop down the plaster. The tray clattered to the floor and Kara closed her eyes, savouring the release.
    But it only lasted a moment.
    When Kara opened her eyes, the student nurse was staring. Her eyes, big and round flicked from the puddle of breakfast on the floor to her patient in the hospital bed. Her lip began to quiver, her hands folded at her waist. She started to cry before turning and speed walking from the room.
    â€˜Crap.’
    Kara pushed up out of bed and hobbled to the wall, bending to retrieve fragments of breakfast bowl from the quagmire of porridge. Rosemary never cried when Kara gave into fits of rage. Rosemary just stood there and let the heat of Kara’s anger wash over her. Kara felt a momentary stab of remorse.
    They would send Nurse
Trunchenbowl
to her room. She heard the matron before she saw her.
    â€˜Miss Bailey.’ Kara turned slowly, the cracked pieces of bowl in her hand. ‘Is there a problem this morning?’
    Kara snorted but chose not to answer. She moved toward the small waste paper basket located next to her bed.
    The matron, stocky and bull like, glared at her charge. Kara was referred to on the ward as a difficult patient. The weeks in hospital for observation and tests were wearing at her.
    â€˜No matron. Everything is just peachy.’ Kara sat slowly into the reading chair next to the window, wiping her sticky hands down her pajamas. She stared out of the window, ignoring the matron, ignoring the hospital room.
    There was a hole in her heart, a deep sense of loss. It showed itself to Kara only when the anger