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YOU STARE DARKLY AT THE MAN'S DEAD BODY.
now that you were really there, your stomach was giving a mean churn.
you had seen dead bodies before. numerous, actually. back in the orphanage, at least one kid died every month.
and that was either due to starvation, dehydration, falling and being unable to get back up, or, the worst of them all. having killed themselves.
you had seen one too many of those.
those usually consisted of mangled, twisted bodies of children who had done anything imaginable to make themselves die.
some hung themselves with loose wires or twine.
some smashed their fists so hard against the tiled bathroom, cracking a tile and slicing their own neck.
some threw themselves down the basement steps, that usually leading in multiple bones breaking and them bleeding out. or if they were lucky, their neck would snap and it would be a quick death.
some got other kids to beat them bloody, and then some would do it themselves. smashing their faces against the sink or ground until their faces were unrecognizable and they died from blood loss.
you had tried to be one of those children.
it appeared as if it was your only escape.
and at the time, it was.
you had tried to hang yourself and failed. you got punished severely for that.
you had thrown yourself down the stairs, though having only broken an arm and a leg in a painful way. luckily you could blame that on clumsiness and you got punished a bit less severely.
you shake your head, removing your thoughts from that place and back to the current time.
