Bar Girl by David Thompson

blood. It was almost empty. She had to go. Had to get away.
    She lifted a corner of the plaster holding the needle. It pulled at her skin as she peeled it back. A small bruise marked the entry point of the needle. She pulled it out. Dark, red blood, almost black in the dim light, dripped onto the white linen. Left a stain.
    She climbed out of the bed quietly. She didn’t know where to go. Just away. She slipped off the gown and pulled on her jeans. Opening the bundle she found another tee shirt. She left the torn one hanging on the chair. She didn’t want it. Didn’t want the memory.
    She tied the bundle, stooped to pick up her sandals. Bare foot she went to the glass panel. A corridor. The policeman had turned right. Was that the way out? She opened the door a fraction. Looked out. The corridor ran to the right until it reached double swing doors at the far end. To the left it turned left again. It seemed to lead deeper into the building. She would head right.
    Slowly and carefully, she slipped through the doorway. Holding her breath against making any sound, she moved along the corridor keeping her shoulder against the wall. Her arm throbbed. Pounded. She could feel the pulse as though her heart was concealed under the gauze of the bandage.
    When she reached the double swing doors she looked through one of the glass panels. A counter on the right. A nurse sat behind the desk. She was reading a book. No. A magazine.
    Siswan waited. Knowing she would be caught. She wouldn’t be able to get past the nurse. She thought of going back to her room. Accepting her fate. Tomorrow there would be trouble. Today, she corrected herself. She guessed that it must be the early hours of the morning by now.
    The nurse glanced up from her magazine. Had she seen her? Had she spotted her looking through the glass? She almost turned to run. Almost went back the way she had come. But something held her still. The nurse hadn’t looked at the double doors. She had looked at the computer screen sat in front of her.
    Dressed in white trousers and white jacket, the nurse stood and walked out from behind the counter. She turned right. Away from where Siswan watched. She walked past a few doors down the corridor and stepped through one on the left hand side. Now, Siswan told herself. Now. Go now.
    She pushed through the doors and quietly made her way down the corridor beyond. Past the counter. No one there. A beeping noise coming from the computer. The sound matched the throb of her arm. Like a heart beat.
    She moved along the corridor as quickly as she dared. Here was the room the nurse had entered. She glanced through the glass panel. The big lights were on in the room. The nurse was bent over an old man. He looked frail. Weak. A yellow pallor to his skin. His nose was black and bruised. A bandage on his hand. The drunk. The drunk from the park. Weak and frail.
    Siswan ducked down and continued down the corridor. She went through two more sets of double doors. Down a flight of stairs. Along one corridor that led nowhere. Backtracked. Tried another. Saw a way out. Took it. Ran away from the hospital.
    All the time she had been thinking. Old. Frail. Weak. He didn’t look well enough to attack her. Had she been wrong? Had he just wanted to sleep? The questions ran through her mind again and again. Had she been wrong? Had she attacked him? She ran. Away from the town. Away from the doubt in her mind. What had she done? The thought wailed in her mind. Screamed at her. What had she done?
    *****
    When Siswan stopped running she had passed the outskirts of the town. She was back in the countryside. The sun had broken the horizon and the fields around her sang with the noise of crickets. The main highway she followed stretched away into the distance and the trucks that passed, buffeted the air against her. Her face and hair were covered in the dust they threw up. She felt alone and tired. Her arm throbbed under the bandage.
    She was a young girl in a