“I’ve still got life in me.”
She kicked and screamed as they got hold of her and held her down.
“You’re coming with us,” they said.
Helen felt her throat tightening, as if she would die. Her whole world was going.
Who would have believed that this fould hapoen to her? Only a few short months ago she had been playing her flute in a group in public. She was still writing Articles for academic Journals. She had produced four books of poetry. But she could not make a cup of tea. She was disabled and that was what they judged her on.
It was summer, and in the autumn Helen was due to be the Keynote Speaker at a Conference. Everything was prepared. The Notes were written. The workshops had been arranged. Helen was looking forward to it.
“You’re coming with us.” Their grip on her tightened. They were taking her into a Home. Everyone said it was for the best.
“You just HAD to STYMIE me didn’t you. I am not even a person to you. Just a thing. Let go of me I say. Let go of me.”