• They were passing slowly, those moments before the event that changed my life. My senses were sharpened; I heard music coming in through the window- slow, morbid music. Fitting, I thought, for when I die.
    ***************************************
    The girl on the floor seemed calm for being in the situation she was in. Even though my knife was held to her throat, she seemed to be listening- listening for something I couldn't hear. She was brave, I noted. I didn't even know who she was. But she had to die; she could change everything. While thinking, I had unconciously lowered my knife to her abdomen. The squealing of car tires made her jump, provoking the same action from me, and my knife lowered, cutting across the side of her leg. I cursed as an inaudible cry of pain escaped from her lips.
    ***************************************
    The pain was what brought me back; somehow I was still alive. The urge to survive coursed through me, as the music faded and was silenced. I must survive, I thought; they have to know. Painstakingly, leaving a trail of blood, I dragged myself towards the door, biting through my tongue to endure the agony. Hot blood filled my mouth, making me throw up. But still I dragged myself to the door, inch by inch.
    ***************************************
    I watched as she haltingly crawled to the door, throwing up as she did. I told myself that I needed to finish the job, but something held me back. Besides, I thought, if she doesn't die of bleeding, the trauma won't let her remember.
    ***************************************
    I don't know how I did it, but through my dim reality I managed to get downstairs through the elevator. As I pushed open the door with the deadweight that was my body, I saw a telephone booth thirty feet away. For what felt like an eternity, i made my way to the phone booth. It was raining; a hard pelting that only hurt me more. In the solace of the phone booth, I reached up my hands and groped for the phone. I couldn't reach the numbers. Roaring filled my ears; I felt that if I just submitted to the pain, stopped fighting it, everything would be okay. As darkness filled my vision, it struck me how ironic it was that of all the ways I had imagined dying, it wasn't ever in a phone booth next to a building I didn't even know.
    I passed out laughing.