Cloyed

I felt sick. Like, really sick. You don't know true revulsion until you see that sort of thing happen to your best friend. I feel queasy just thinking about it, even now - I don't mind, it lets me know I'm not...'dead inside', to use a cliché.

But really, it was disgusting. I mean, there was...I had a good idea of what was inside a human body, but...she just sort of tore open and stuff came out. I have no idea how I managed to keep from, keep from, I don't know, something, anything! I didn't puke, I didn't scream, I didn't run, didn't fight, didn't pass out...I just stood there.

I stood and waited for five minutes before she got back up again.

She looked at me...well, she'd already had her eyes torn out by this point, so it was hard to tell...what she was feeling, but...I don't know, maybe it was just my own guilt, but she gave me this long stare. She didn't speak, but I just had this unshakable feeling she hated me. Why hadn't this happened to me, and more importantly, why had I just watched it happen?

She still hates me, I think. What am I saying? Of course she does. I can't apologise, I can't make up for it. Not just what happened then, but everything that got us into this. I know I'm really sounding typical here, but it genuinely is all my fault.