Читать книгу The Liar’s Daughter - Claire Allan - Страница 20

There’s not a single person in this world who hasn’t made a mistake. Who hasn’t done something they are ashamed of. Anyone who denies this is a liar.

I’ve not always done the right thing. I’ve absolutely done the wrong thing a few times. Some of these things for the right reasons. Or I thought so at the time.

Like when Natalie was sick. She was in so much pain. So wretched. It hadn’t been that hard to get my hands on some extra morphine for her. I suppose things weren’t as rigid then as they are now.

I was trying to help. I still believe I did help. I took her pain away, and then I stayed because even though I knew it was good and humane that her suffering was over, I was still overcome with guilt.

Each and every time I saw Heidi look up at me, her eyes wide, her face pale. Her grief too painful to watch, I wondered if I’d done the right thing. I’d taken a mother from her child.

So I stayed. Did what Natalie had wanted. She’d begged me, you see. ‘Make sure Heidi is okay,’ she’d say, knowing her own parents weren’t fit to look after the child. Natalie was so terrified that Heidi would end up in care. Bad things happened in care, she said.

She’d had faith in me. She was foolish, too. I tried to be good, but I was – I am – only human and I am flawed.

But I’ve fought my demons. That has to count for something, doesn’t it? I rehabilitated myself. Found God. Asked for His forgiveness for what I did to Natalie. What I did for Natalie.

And I lived a good life. I thought it would make a difference, but in the end it seems it doesn’t matter what you do for people, it’s never enough.

No one realises how hard this is. What a burden it is. Temptation is everywhere. Urges don’t just go away, you know. I had to content myself with looking and not touching, but I did that because I wanted to prove I could change.

I was prepared to wait for forgiveness. I’ve been very patient, but time is running out and now I think there’s a cruelty to them that they aren’t prepared to let go of.

How do they not see how hard it was for me, too? How it ate me up inside? Because it did. I hated myself for years. It almost destroyed me, almost drove me to suicide.

I was a victim, too. I didn’t ask to be born this way.

I wasn’t perfect. I did so much for them that they will never bring themselves to acknowledge.

The selfish, spoiled little bitches.