Her hands are gripping her lunch – its pasta today, cheese and tomato pasta. She likes it, she thinks as she raises the fork to her mouth. No one speaks to her as she sits there, studying her peers. It easy to see the social groups, who was popular and who was not.
Her head is bursting she wants to scream. The chatter of peers surrounds her, its closing in. Her breath is shallow. Her head is hurting. Hands shake as they struggle to remain at her side. She's cold. She doesn't want to be here. A teacher looks – you care now? Her chest is shaking. Her pale hands are clenched into fists. But she's warm now. The things in front of her are fuzzy .though why is that?
Is that a person in front of her? Who is that? Why are they so close? What's that sound? Is that a scream? Its mangled, twisted – clearly in pain. Is that her? Is it her making that sound? As one the year is turning in their seats. She feels their gaze – its unwanted. She hates attention. Why are they looking? Will they leave her alone? Won't they?
Someone is touching her. Her hand – its too warm. It feels hot against her skin – too hot, its burning. Her skin feels cold, wet – is she sweating? Something is leaking from her eyes – tears? Is she crying? Why?
There's another scream now. She's sure its not hers. People are staring, their mouths are shocked. Why? What's wrong. The hands are trying to sooth her, comfort her. Why? Friction. She thinks. She needs friction to warm her body. The hands are heavy, large – masculine? Who is it? Why are they doing this?
There are more screams now. They're closer. As one her year is leaning from their chairs, straining, standing, trying to get a closer look. Of who? Her? Why? Is that a scream in her ear? Who? Is that the girl she was sitting with? She looks scared – why? The hands holding her have changed. They are lighter, softer – feminine? Who is it? Why?
She's hearing something. Her vision is failing. Everything is blurring now, into one big lump of colour, shapes and sizes. She knows not what anything is. More liquid is trickling down her cheeks.
Tears?
There's a siren coming in the distance - why? Her school was on a hill. Who would come here?
There's more shouting. She can see movement it looks frantic, rapid - why? Its coming towards her. Why? The man is carrying a box.
Her vision is blurry again – worse. She's tired - why? There is a blackness in front of her, she wants to give in to.
Someone is telling her something.
There is something trickling down her throat. Water? Why?
She feels her eyes rolling to the back of her head. The blackness is overcoming – its enveloping her. Why? What is this? Hands are shaking her. Why? Someone is slapping her. Why? It hurts. There's a muffled curse and more speaking.
There are wheels she can hear them. What is it? A crash cart? Why? Her body is being lifted. Why? She's struggling. Why?
An injection is being put into her arm. Why? What is that tired feeling coming over her? Why does the blackness seem so much more exciting now, so much better. Why? Her eyelids are drooping. Why? There are soothing voices. Why?
Her eyelids are closing.
Why?
She wants to sleep.
Why?
The waves are overcoming her.
Why?
The last thing she hears is her knife falling … falling … falling to ground.
Why?