She let out a strangled gasp as she was forced to her knees. She let no more leave her lips because she knew worse was to come and couldn’t let herself give in so soon. The sharp pain that shot up from her knees to waist was bearable. She kept her head from swimming too much by staring at the wet concrete under her palms and knees. She vaguely wondered if the wetness was her blood or rain puddles

            It was so hot and she hated how bright the sun was. She hated how vividly she could see colours. She decided the liquid was just rain. She desperately wanted the colours to just go away. This would all be so much easier if she didn’t have to see her blood spray across the concrete when a lead pipe was slammed across her jaw. It was bad enough with having to feel, hear, and taste the pain. Seeing it made it ten times more real. She didn’t want this to be real. Oh god, she just wanted this over and done with.

            She had read about this part of death in books but she never actually believed it. She had read that when you were on the edge, you started to think of stupid irrelevant things. She found herself wondering what the weather would be like tomorrow and how her friend’s birthday was coming up and how she didn’t a birthday gift. She found herself thinking of her favorite foods and wondering if her mum would make it for dinner. Then she started to cry. She started to sob. Not from the physical pain, but from the emotional tearing of her heart. She cried for her mother and she cried for her friend and she cried. All pain was cancelled out with pain in the heart. She felt like someone was ripping her heart in half rather than twisting her ankle 180 degrees.

The sun was beating down on her bloodied back as gravel was rubbed into her wounds. Why wasn’t she dead? Why was she still crying and sobbing and screaming? Why had no one heard her? She was so fucking scared. She didn’t want to die. No, no, no. Oh dear god, no. Please. She was young. She was only fucking fifteen. Her birthday was soon. Why wasn’t she being saved?

            Where’s your God now?

            She was screaming for God to have mercy. She was screaming for your mommy, she was screaming somebody, anybody. The knives were so sharp she hardly felt their shiny exterior slide over her skin. She felt the sting of the wind hit the bloody lacerations. Her arms had long given out, the tan skin now a delicate swirl of black and blue with some melding of purple. She would have called it pretty if her eyes were open. All she could see was black and red. She kept blacking out, giving her false hope for death. But she would always awake again with a scream bubbling over lips.

Over, over, over. Please, be over. She felt everything get quieter and more distant. The only clear sound being a distinct ringing and her black outs became white outs and the pain began to melt. Slowly, slowly, slowly she relaxed, relieved that the end was near. The end was here. No more screaming for her burning and raw throat. No more tears for her swollen and stinging eyes. This was good. This was bliss. Ah, yes. She was more than ready for this.