The Process of being Murdered

Anna is dying.

And I am watching


2. 19



That's all I can think. Please someone just anyone hear me. I do not want to die. I am in pain and I need help. 

But the alleyway behind the kebab shop is deserted and the staff have all gone home. That's not that surprising, as an 20 year old woman laying in her bloodied wedding dress at 3:00am, I'm not sure who else I was expecting to walk by. Maybe I imagined Callum running towards me, his arms open, his face scrunched up in concern and he would scoop me up as he does. But I'm about 99% sure he's dead. 


No don't think about that. Think about help. 


I am a woman who was attacked on her wedding day. I am a woman with 4 stab wounds to the abdomen, multiple bruises and cuts and a broken wrist from where they twisted it backwards to hold me to the ground. My body feels like it is on fire and for some reason I can't move. 


This wasn't supposed to be me. Here, in a wedding dress. Dying painfully and violently. This happens in movies, not a University student who's getting married to her high school boyfriend on a student budget. For fucks sake this is a charity shop dress. Cost me £20. Not much of a waste then I suppose. 




It's starting to burn. 


I think I'm dying. I am in the process of being murdered. 


Oh well.


Something interesting to write on my gravestone.


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