I gripped the sharp knife as the crimson liquid dripped from it. I knelt on the floor, with tears streaming down my face. My heart sank as I watched the man I loved lying on the floor. I crave to touch him, but I can’t. I wished to kiss him, but disgust deepened. I despise him, but I loathe myself further.
I picked up the phone that rested on top of the drawer. Even though my hands are trembling, I even contend with dialing the ambulance station number. On the first ring, they answered the call.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Go to 2187 NYC Urban Calm, High town C. O Clark.”