Eight year old Bronwyn knew she wasn't like other girls. She didn't have a mother. At least not a real one. Her mother had been in a coma at the hospital for as long as Bronwyn could remember. She couldn't feel any pain, her father said, it was just like sleeping — only she never woke up. But on visiting days, when Bronwyn sat with her mother, she knew it wasn't true that she couldn't feel anything. Her mother was angry. Angry at the nurses and doctors for the way they treated her. Angry at her own helplessness. But soon, very soon, she would be helpless no longer. And then she would show them all the true meaning of suffering.
