Blackout Poem by Elizabeth Tyrrell

I'm in pain. So much pain. I can't move without the stab of the knife going deeper into my gut. I can't breath without the bullet puncturing my lungs further. The metal is shiny and dropping with my blood. You hold it to my lips and tell me to drink the sanguine fluid coming from it. I refuse and you cut my cheek. I feel the blood fall from my face. I look down at the crimson stains on my jeans and smile. You laugh and so do I. You laugh at the art you have created. I laugh at the thoughts buzzing through my mind. 'You think this hurts me? I get hurt everyday from people like you.' I grab for the knife and you lash out at me cutting my arms and legs. You get hold of me and slap my bleeding cheek. I feel the sting and almost cry, but then I see your expectant eyes and they silence my cries of relief. Your face falls with disappointment and I try to smile again. You slap me once more and I laugh like a crazy person.  You bring the knife back to my lips and tell me to drink the drying blood. I press my tongue against the metal and taste the metallic liquid. Finally, you draw the blade away and pull out your gun. 'You are a tough girl aren't you? ', you say this as if you don't know the answer, but your face shows that you know exactly what the answer is. I dare myself to speak. 'I'm the one strong enough not to cut up a little girl and give her scars. I'm the one strong enough not to cry as you make me bleed. So, yes I'm a ' tough girl' and you are a cowardly,   unequivalent mess that no one will think of or remember. As for me they will remember me. They will remember how I suffered and the pain coursing through my body and how still even in the face of death I didn't cry'. You didn't like that you slapped me over and over again. I just gave you a look that says 'do it again I dare you'. You stop your incessant slaps and put the gun to my head. 'Any last words from the tough girl? To bad no one will hear them'. I laugh which makes you tighten your grip on the gun. ' See thank is where you are wrong. I don't plan to die today. Not now at least not in this way.  See what you didn't realize is that you have fallen into our trap'. 'Ours? You are all alone in this place'. 'That is where you are wrong.  You didn't notice the car parked outside my apartment when you took me. You didn't realize the car followed you all the way here. You didn't see the person walk with us down that awful hill. He came in here unwitnessed by you and has hid in the shadows of the corners until this very moment. You have lost my friend and you will be the one to die tonight, not me'. You looked around the room angry and confused, but you still didn't see the person standing right behind me.  'Your time is up, ' I say just as you realize I'm crazy and that I'm an escapy of an asylum. I grab the knife long abandoned still drenched in my blood and stab it into your neck. You fall to the floor and I stab you repeatedly in the chest and stomach until you are the bloody mess. 'You should have seen him coming for you. You should have seen him behind me taking the pain away. He is God and I am one of his angels. You, demon, shall now go back to hell where you belong. You took the cowards life, the siner's life, and never did you repent so now God has chosen your fate. Just as he chose mine many years ago. Perhaps the next person will choose wisely and not join you siners'. I take the gun from your limp hands and put it to your head and pull the trigger.  Nothing happens. There are no bullets. 'Looks like God is giving you a second chance'. I throw the gun on to the floor and leave the room you dragged me to. I go home and see you on the news, but it's not your name or even your face it's the situation you caused. It is like I said you are a cowardly, unequivalent mess that no one will think of or remember.  I see my face appear on the screen and it is also as I said. They will remember how I suffered and the pain coursing through my body and how even now sitting in my apartment nine months later I don't cry.