He’s infront of me.

There’s a knife in his hand. It glints like it’s real.

Not real not real not real

There’s a sliver of blood on his neck from the blade. Then deeper. Deeper, deeper, deeper.

Blood everywhere. Blood on the floor. Blood in his hair. Blood on his hands. Blood on his clothes.

Blood in my hair. Blood on my hands. Blood on my clothes.

Bloodbloodblood, so much b l o o d.

There are tears in my eyes. Sunlight streaming through the window. He’s behind me.

Breathing.

In,

Out,

In,

Out.

Alive. Breathing.

He brushes the hair out of my face, “We’re you crying?”

“No,” Conceal, conceal, conceal, “I’m fine.”

I’m acting.

I’m concealing.

I’m f i n e.