You can call me slag, bitch, I don't care. He was begging for it and I gave it to him. First time. Messy and horrible, but I don't care. I didn't feel a thing. Still don't. It's done now.
You would think I'd be scared wouldn't you? Are you thinking that? What the fuck is she doing down there in a tunnel, at night? Well. Don't worry about me.
I'm not even cold. Funny how a tunnel can keep you warm. You wouldn't believe what I've got at home. Double bed, thick duvet, carpet. Even a fucking en-suite bathroom. Do you know what? I don't even miss it. Don't even fucking miss it.
I used to love my cat. Wonder if anyone has bothered to feed it? Oh well. Probably been too busy doing deals with the papers. Third day now, they'll be crapping themselves.
I know it won't last. I know it will be over soon. They'll find me. Wheel me to one of those psychologists. See how I'm dealing with the trauma, you know. Do you think they will see the truth in my eyes? I want to try and trick them. I don't want to share it. It's mine. It happened to me. I own it. It's simple. It happened to me and not them. I'm alive and I could have been dead. End of.
Smelt of Lynx. Small though, thought it would be bigger, thought I'd feel it more. I felt nothing. He followed me here. I bribed him. Said I would give it to him if he didn't tell no-one I was here. Said I'd give him more if he kept his mouth shut. Bet he couldn't believe his luck. Bet he'll be back tomorrow. I'll hide.
I remember the perfect circles. The barrel of the gun and looking at it head on.
Don't shoot, I'm begging you. He cocked the gun and laughed.
Your lucky day, bitch.
I stood on the side of the road, thank you, thank you, thank you. My feet moulded into the concrete, frozen. Then I got here, don’t know how. My frozen feet got me here.
You bastard stranger - why did you choose me? Was it my hair, the shape of teeth, my school bag swinging or the curve of my waist? Maybe you should have finished the job. Look what I'm left with... what do I do with this?
I need to speak to someone. My Mum. Where's my fucking phone? Where's my phone?
I don’t want the million questions. The interrogation. The concerned looks from people who couldn't really give a fuck. But I miss Mum. It's not fair on her.
Did I really let that boy do that to me? Did that man nearly kill me? Where the hell have I been? I can't reverse, I can't go back on any of this.
I've found my phone. Please work. Please. Oh fuck, low battery, no fucking signal. Just walk till I get a signal, that's all I need to do. Just get up and walk out of the tunnel. It's not so dark out there... anymore.