TWELVE

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"Joel's stable. He won't wake up for a while, as the drugs have knocked him out. So why don't you go and have a drink, calm down?" the doctor says. He pats my arm, smiles, and walks off with Joel's notes in hand.

My heart stops pounding, but my breath is caught in my throat.

He's lying on the bed with an oxygen mask on. The beeping from the monitor suggests he's normal. But we all know in this room that Joel isn't normal: his DNA is broken, and his fundamental makeup is faulty. It was broken before he was even born, and there is nothing anyone, a doctor, scientist, or therapist, can do about it. No number of drugs, therapy or love can fix this.

I wonder how my mother would explain this one: 'it's God's will, Aspen' or 'God has a plan for everyone, and this is Joel's path'. It's all just a bunch of tosh right now: what God in their right mind would do this to someone? Joel is so innocent, he's so... amazing.

Sure, he got me pregnant before we even thought about marriage, sure he's a sinner, but aren't we all? What higher being would play around with someone's basic makeup to put them through this much agony and misery? Why would they put that person's family through this? This is more than cruel: this is torture. Watching the person you love having seizures and enduring pain is awful.

Not even my mother could convince me that this is purely down to God's will. I've always wavered in my belief, but now I know that Joel's condition has nothing to do with God.

I put my tea on the table and sit down, not sure what to do with myself. My hands tighten around it, allowing the burning to seep in just so I can feel something. In the middle of the table is a small plastic cup of water with a small bunch of daisies in it. I smile, knowing who put them there.

The only thing I know to do is silently pray:

'Dear God, please let Joel be okay. We've gone through enough; we've paid for our sins already. Just let him be okay. Please. Amen.'

Nicholas appears through the door after ten minutes. I know it wouldn't take them long to call for him; he is Joel's specialist nurse. I'm sure he rushed up here as quickly as he could.

'Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.'



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"I've just been in to see him. They've stabilised him for now. He'll be out for a while, but he'll need sleep," Nicholas says. He closes the door behind him and sinks into the chair opposite, his eyes darting between me and the daisies.

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