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I lie propped up against the wall in the corner of the main room at youth club. Everyone else is in the little room, watching a film. Nobody saw. Nobody knows.
I am made (by my own mind) to watch it again and again- what just happened- I am punished again and again. Punished for a crime I did not commit. My brain streaks off on its own, choosing different angles from which I can calmly observe the worst moment of my life, just in case I might see a different side, get a little more perspective. From where I'm sitting, I can't really envisage that happening anytime soon.
I realise I'm drifting, losing myself. Oh help, if I'm losing myself just sitting here, what chance are the others going to have when they find me?
If they find me.
Shut up. They will. They're my friends- they'll realise I'm gone, any second now. They will. But then, I thought she was my friend too. Just shows how wrong you can be.
I suddenly realise I'm hardly feeling it. By talking to myself and thinking about something else, well, sort of, my body has blocked my pain receptors, stopping it hurting physically. Heaven knows it hurts mentally. I trusted her! Sort of.
My breathing is becoming shallow and fast; I'm panicking, working myself up. Stop it! Stop it now! Concentrate. Just stay calm, I tell myself. After all there's nothing else I can do right now that's going to be of much help in this surreal situation.
I look down at the knife sticking out of my abdomen and the way my blood soaked hand curls around it like a sleeping cat, applying pressure, stopping the blood flow. I'm not really doing very well, I observe; there is a pool of my scarlet blood gathering upon the floor next to me. I hope it will come out of the carpet.
I'm thinking too much. Rambling off on one, daydreaming- like I always do when I'm facing something I don't want to be up against. Like her, it would seem. Her and her stupid, selfish attitude.
I look down again and it dawns on me that I'm being totally stupid. Just waiting here, expecting someone in the other room with the sixth sense (i.e. no one) to come and save me. They're only in the next room, for goodness sake, I'm surprised they didn't hear her stab me in the first place. Although, her hand over my mouth (almost suffocating me) at the same time probably did have something to do with it...
The knife glares back at me and I take a deep breath.
With an energy that comes from nowhere, I begin to shout.
'Help! Please, somebody help me!'
And they come running.