My stomach leaps (unfortunate seeing as thats where I'm injured) with the realisation that I have been shot.
It hurts like I have never been hurt before, like I could never imagine.
It's as if someone has stabbed me with a red hot sword, a red hot jagged sword.
And they're twisting it around, and around.
And around again.
I look down and see that I have been bandaged up and I realise that I am not wearing a maroon shirt like I had thought at a vague glance.
I was wearing a white shirt, now red with the stain of my misfortune.
I am going to need a new one, if I can ever bear to come back here.
Suddenly there are flashes of light, again and again. I'm wondering if I'm passing out again out again, seeing stars or something.
But then there are voices, people holding back other people while they spin their webs of hysteria, spreading out their tentacles of horror, picking up the seeds of our agony and planting them in the furtile grounds of other peoples unspoilt lives.
Spreading the disease, feeding the weed.
My mother....
For the first time I realise that she will be in pieces, she'll fly into pieces.
When the paramedic comes back, she tells me that all of the injured are being bussed to the hospital, families will be informed,
Shit. Oh Shit. She is going to...she's gonna...
I don't even want to know whats going to happen in her head.
Out of nowhere, I discover that I have no idea where you are, I so desperately wanted to never let go, to just cling on to you, but we have been torn apart, torn like the fabric of my body and my life.
But they are loading me up and shipping us off, there are students everywhere, running into the arms of hysterical mothers, being signed off and taken home.
Except the injured.
Why is it that we who need our families most are denied them?
And except you, you are denied everything but handcuffs.
Just like before, you are alone.
Did you think that this would change that?
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