As she leaned against the wall bracing herself to pull the knife out, she wondered briefly if DD7 could get the blood stains out of her clothes.
Gripping the handle of the knife , she closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and pulled.
The pain was immense, it was white, hot, searing pain.
She smiled, dropped the knife and stumbled toward the payphone to her left.
Damn, she thought, what if I don’t have a quarter?
She laughed and then stopped, it hurt her too much. It hurt to move, to breathe, even thinking hurt her.
Finally, she was standing at the pay-phone, digging her right hand into her pocket and holding the wound in her chest with her left.
There was nothing in her pockets except a couple of gum wrappers and a tissue.
She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall behind her.
I wonder why I haven’t cried yet? She thought. The pain was still there, going in and out in waves. It seemed to be coming on full force, picking up more and more momentum as it came.
Then she thought, I’m going to die aren’t I?
Yes, she answered herself, you are. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. The damage has been done.
Suddenly she yelled, screamed, pleaded for some one, anyone, to please help her! But no one heard. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper.
She slumped down into sitting position, coughing and letting out a pained grunt as she hit the ground.
And then she did cry.
The damage had been done.
