Stay

For a moment, I’m frozen, but then I jam my elbow back as hard as I can. She grunts, but her hold doesn’t loosen; instead, she presses the blade closer, until a few trickles of blood are released.
“Don’t struggle,” she warns remorselessly, “or I’ll slit your throat.”
My eyes flit about anxiously for rescue, and fall upon my favorite bully. Gerard, as if sensing my glance, turns to see me, the smirk falling from his lips as he takes in my wide eyes and fearful disposition. Just as the gravity of my predicament dawns on him, an ear-piercing scream rings out from somewhere beside me—someone else has seen me too.
The crowd takes several long seconds to realize what is going on before everyone start running and shouting in fear. Gerard is the only still bystander—he seems frozen in shock. Then, he clears the surprise from his face. I half-expect him to start urging on the attacker, but he begins to slink around behind the woman, disguised by the uproarious crowd. I can’t fathom what he is doing, how he is going to help kill me, and I throw him a sort of desperate, pleading look before he averts his eyes from my face to fix them on my captor.
A voice in my ear: “Stay back!” The threat is palpable; it doesn’t need saying. I wildly try to see where she is looking—is it Gerard? Let it be Gerard! If they fight over who gets to kill me, I’ll live longer!—but a teenage girl is the culprit who stops a few yard before me. Her nervous eyes flicker relentlessly between me and my captor.
“Please,” the girl says timidly, holding up her hands.
My attacker is silent.
The girl continues, “Please let him go. He’s just a kid. A nice kid. Don’t hurt him.”
I wonder if I’ve met her before, but I don’t recall her being in any of my classes. Maybe she’s an actor. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she knew me well.
“What are you, his girlfriend?” the woman growls mockingly.
The girl blushes and shakes her head. By now, the crowd has finally dispersed and quieted to tense whispers on the fringes of the school grounds. Only Gerard and this random teenage girl are anywhere near me and my attacker. Even the few teachers I can see stand back grimly.
I lose sight of Gerard and my limbs start shaking in fear. He is going to kill me and that’s all I can think. I’m more afraid of him right now than I am of the stranger with a knife held to my throat. It’s hard to tell if this fear is irrational or not. But right now, he’s the biggest threat. This woman might show mercy, but Gerard never does. I wriggle desperately in the woman’s arms, but she’s surprisingly strong. The blade draws a few more drops of blood, but she spares no more words for me.
“If you don’t want to stain your clothes, you might want to back away now,” she warns the girl.
But the girl doesn’t waver. “He doesn’t deserve to die,” she insists.
I don’t know if I imagine the faint footstep behind us or not, but I can’t take the risk. “Behind you!” I hiss urgently to the woman holding me. She gives me a disbelieving look, and after a moment, the girl turns around in confusion before facing us again. She’s very convincing—she doesn’t let herself look at Gerard once. She must think she’s helping me.
“He’s behind you!” I try again, straining my neck to get a view of my captor.
After another incredulous look from both present parties, the stranger growls, “Shut up!” and sets her sights back onto the flustered girl who returns to her reasoning tactic.
“Do you have a brother? A sister? Who do you love?” she asks.
The stranger is quiet for a moment before she starts to laugh, a harsh, rickety sound, not humorous at all. The girl pales, and I can’t repress a shiver. “Don’t you get it?” the woman sneers. “I’m a psychopath! I don’t love anyone!” The knife shifts as she grips it tighter and I flinch as it stings. “And now, I’m going to prove it.”
I hear three things at once: a gasp from the girl; a heavy footfall from behind—Gerard!; and a grunt from the woman as she drags the knife across my throat.
My neck is on fire. I can feel, on top of the pain, the horrible wrong feeling of having a gap in my skin, two pieces of flesh that are longing to reunite but can’t. Wet, sticky, hot blood stains my skin and clothes. This is a new shirt.
The blade is gone after only a partial slash, not finishing the kill. A girl I don’t know—oh! the one who tried to help me—leans over me, frantically flailing her hands, not knowing what to do. I realize I’m lying on the ground; I must’ve fallen. My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Another face looms over me, and I’m horrified to recognize Gerard. His face is harsh—not mocking, murderous—and his hands wrap around my throat and press down. He’s strangling me; I can’t breathe. He’s yelling something, but the last insults he throws at me are drowned out by a ringing in my ears. My vision goes black before anyone can save me. As if anyone would bother to save me….

Notes