9 Cal May 15, 2020

This is it. I'm going to die. I am going to die right here on my living room floor. Alone.

My arm has twisted around painfully, the weight of my body has it pinned to the ground under my chest.

How is my palm against the floor when my forearm is against my body? My hand should not be facing that way.

The right side of my face burns where the coffee table has torn my skin, the place it meets the carpet feels absent. Maybe the skin is gone?.

Blood pooling from the gash on my head has clouded my vision or maybe my eye is swollen shut. It's hard to tell.

I don't know. I don't know anything. I have no idea how I got into this position or how long I've been here. Through the window I can see that it's still dark outside, so probably not long. Or maybe it's dark again and I've been here all day. My body is sore in a way that makes me think it's the latter.

I will myself to get up, but nothing happens.

My wallet's ringing across the house, but I can't get to it.

Wallet? That doesn't seem right.

What is the word for the thing that makes the noise, then we all talk to each other?

What is happening? How did I get down here? Why can't I move?

Help. Someone please, help me.