i felt the pain sear through me, like a knife on fire, before i heard his voice. the pain burned deep down into my ears so that i couldn’t make sense of the words. i didn’t know if it was his screaming or mine. my senses had failed me.
i thought, maybe, please God, let me be dreaming.
the last thing i remember was getting into bed, checking normal things,lovely things, to end a lovely day: that i had a glass of water, that i had put hand cream on, that my alarm was set – the one to wake me for work, and the one to keep me safe. but maybe my memory had failed me? how else would this person have walked into my home, and cut me like this?
why the fuck was he cutting me.
i was a good person. i always thought that i was going to die at the end of a long good happy beautiful life, i thought that old age was going to get me, not a fucking piece of shit with a knife in the night.
i wont die. you wont kill me. i wont let you take me like this.
i think i screamed these words. i know i acted them.
a miracle, but i got out from under him; and i ran away, away, away from him; and i screamed and ran and screamed and ran.
and i got away with my life, but i am no longer alive. i am scared and i am afraid and i am south african.