Friday, 2 January 2009 - 2:42 pm


Simon died last night.  No-one knows when; he went quietly, in his sleep.  I don’t know if it was his injuries or the infection; probably both.  He never got the help he needed, and now he’s dead.

We gathered around him this morning.  No-one said anything; we had a moment of silence almost by accident. 

Then there was breakfast to sort out and water to portion out.  Food and water, water and food; it always comes back to them.  I had to shoo a couple of the others away from there before they would do something useful.  Something else.


The worst thing is that it was a relief.  Simon’s suffering is over now.  We don’t have to soothe him, or try to get water in between his burnt lips.  I don’t have to wonder any more if all of these delays will kill him.  If I’m going to kill him by doing the wrong thing.

No wondering any more; he’s gone and I failed to get him to the hospital in time.  I don’t know what else I could have done to save him – I keep trying to work it out, but I can’t think of anything else I should have done.  There must have been something.  Maybe I’m not smart enough, or experienced enough.  I shouldn’t be in charge here.  How did I end up in charge?

It’s an awful feeling, the guilt of being glad that someone is dead.  It settles in my stomach like warm poison, like rancid alcohol.  I didn’t know I could ever feel that way about someone.  I keep telling myself that the relief is for his sake, for his peace, but I think that’s a lie.  I think I’m glad he’s gone, because it’s simpler and easier for us that way.

I think I’m a terrible person.  I don’t want to think about someone’s life like that.  Is it just the situation that is making me like this, or was I always this callous?  Always this selfish?  What the hell am I doing?