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Back Going Under Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. DEDICATION
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART I BIRTH
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. PART II LIFE
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. PART III DEATH
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. FORTY
  48. FORTY-ONE
  49. FORTY-TWO
  50. FORTY-THREE
  51. FORTY-FOUR
  52. FORTY-FIVE
  53. FORTY-SIX
  54. FORTY-SEVEN
  55. FORTY-EIGHT
  56. FORTY-NINE
  57. FIFTY
  58. FIFTY-ONE
  59. FIFTY-TWO
  60. FIFTY-THREE
  61. FIFTY-FOUR
  62. FIFTY-FIVE
  63. FIFTY-SIX
  64. FIFTY-SEVEN
  65. FIFTY-EIGHT
  66. FIFTY-NINE
  67. SIXTY
  68. EPILOGUE
  69. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  70. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

By the time I’d finished my residency all I wanted to be was a surgeon. I gave up so much for it. I moved away from my family, I left my boyfriend, I stopped seeing most of my friends, but I kept telling myself that it was worth it. There were times in the operating theatre when I felt like a superhero. Can you understand that? I think on some level you must. I saw your face, sometimes, while we were in there. You had that look of complete enthrallment. That’s how it made me feel. Everything else became secondary.

She’s right—I know exactly what she means. I’d said as much to myself: the operating theatre is a place where magic happens.

I don’t know when it started to go wrong. It’d be easy to say it was when he became our boss and I started to turn into a nasty bitch, and then the sex stuff started and I didn’t know how to say no—but it was before then. I would never have been honest about this before, but it’s over for me now and I may as well tell the truth. It probably started in medical school, I’d say. I knew straight away that to do surgery you had to be strong and focused, and I saw what happened to students who let their emotions get the better of them and I told myself, over and over, that wasn’t going to be me. They were weak, I was strong, and that was it. That’s what I kept telling myself. I remember once, when I was in my final year, being quizzed on a ward round by some consultant and fucking up the name of the artery and him telling me how stupid I was. And I knew then that I wasn’t good enough, that to get where I wanted I had to work harder, stay later, and be better. Only the strongest and smartest survive, and I didn’t care if it meant I’d be staying back till one o’clock every morning or going in on the weekends—that was just what I had to do.

In my mind’s eye, I remember Mr Waters. I see him vomiting up blood and the look of absolute terror in his eyes, reflected in my own. I remember how alone and isolated I felt. I see Estelle, sitting on the floor in Wingabby, tears running down her face. I see the Smiling Assassin, Rachel, sitting in front of me and picture her face after I’d heard the Joker calling her a slut. That is the trajectory. How does it happen? How do any of us let it happen? How do we go from wanting to save the world to this?