I don't want to look at her, but I cannot turn away.
A few hours ago she suggested we come a bit earlier, do some shopping, buy some more clothes. She had a double-date planned for us. It was a blind date for me. I was hopeless with boys, but she had found someone who would come out with me. She would bring her date, and we would see a movie, go to a place to eat, try to get to know our dates better. Maybe I would get my first kiss.
Just a few seconds ago she was in the air above me.
She splashed my shoes, clothes, face. She's all wrong; her insides are on the outside. That can't be my friend; my friend always dressed so well. This girl's clothes are so bloodied and mangled it's hard to tell where clothes begin and body starts.
I don't want to look at her, but I cannot turn away.
I hoped she picked a good guy for me. I don't like guys who smoke or swear. I don't like guys who use God's name in vain either. It just makes me feel sick. I'm a Christian, and I don't tolerate such language.
Someone behind me doesn't stop screaming the curse I hate most. It's some tourist woman. "Swear. Swear, swear swearswearswear. What happened? Swear! Someone call the ambulance! Swear!"
Ambulance? I'm not hurt. Why do you need to call the ambulance? She was just going to get a drink and muffin from Starbucks. She took too long. Our dates were coming up the street, and I called out for her. I told her to come quickly.
Someone is crying. And screaming too. I'm still looking up, but when I try to look down, someone covers my face with his arm. "Don't look!" He tells me, "Don't look at her!" But I've already seen her. She's not human anymore. She's just a pile. A heap. A mound of flesh and broken bones. And I think I'm screaming.
I don't want to look at her, but I cannot turn away.
They will scrape her off the pavement and hose away the blood. She's rubbish; just another mess to be cleaned off the streets. I'm led away from what's left of my friend; a blanket is draped around my shoulders. I still hold my friend's jacket. She asked me to mind it while she ducked inside. They make me let it go. They take it from me.
Someone is holding me against their shoulder, so the sound of my screaming won't attract the attention of the news reporters hanging around like flies outside the 'Police Line: Do Not Cross' fence.
She's a happy girl. Always the brightest smile, always the nicest comment, always the sweetest thing done for someone else. She saw what kind of a person I was; she became my friend. She set me up for a blind-double-date. She was going to buy me a hot chocolate and a danish. She said she wouldn't take too long.
I have to see her again. I break away, run towards where I was before. There are light bulb flashes. I don't care. Someone comes up behind me while I stare at my friend. I don't care. They try and pull me away. I don't care.
I don't want to look at her, but I cannot turn away.
It's hard to see where she begins and she ends. She's splayed all over the concrete, blood splattering even on the far walls. She splashed me too. Bones, pink and red bones, are broken and shattered throughout the meat. Meat. She's nothing but meat. Her head is crushed like a ripe melon. I can't see her smile. To think she was alive only a few minutes ago. To think I knew her once. To think it could've been me.
I don't want to look at her, but I cannot turn away.
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Author's note: Based on an episode of Ayashio Ceres, where a girl 'jumps' to her death and splatters all over the pavement. Even though the girl was a bitch at that stage, there's no way could forget the reaction of Aya... And it made me think: how would I have reacted? Hence this story.