I sit the knife on the table and stare at it for what seems like hours, days, maybe even years, time means nothing now, all I can see is what is before me, I am transfixed, not just by the knife, but by the deep red liquid that has found itself splashed over the blade and hilt of it. I slowly reach out to touch it, and I feel a spark of electricity flow from the liquid up my arm, and tears into my jaw, the liquid splashes against my skin and my clothes. I raise my hand and look at it in wonder, the deep red liquid has seemingly washed over my hand, and soaked into the sleeve of my pale blue shirt. It’s then that I feel something run down my leg, its warm, and wet, and then the smell hits my nose, I remembered my doctor saying how I needed to drink more water, as the longer I allowed myself to dehydrate, the worse my urine would smell. I feel it run into my shoe, and my sock quickly soaks it up. I feel something deep, grow inside me, a feeling, not an actual object, it was shame I think. But I ask myself, why should I feel shame? Was it the fact that I, a grown man of forty years of age had just wet myself so freely and without remorse, wait, was that a lie, was this remorse for that? Or was it because of what I had done moments before I placed the knife on the table, the one covered in the red liquid. I looked over my shoulder and towards where they lie, their lifeless eyes, starring towards some impossible, invisible being, who was, from the look on their faces, welcoming them home with open arms, the red liquid is splashed over their naked bodies, small puddles sit beneath them that slowly run into a drain in the tiled floor. I study their faces, and I find myself surprised how content their expressions are, there is no fear or horror, their faces are not twisted up into balls of disgust, in fact, they look peaceful, more peaceful than I have ever seen anyone before. I look back at the knife, the liquid calls to me again, and I feel something rip through my shoulder. For a few moments I stand there, as my brain tries to register what is happening, and slowly, I fall to my knees, gritting my teeth together and clenching my hands into fists, then I smell something burning, I look to my shoulder and see smoke rising up from a hole in my shirt, and slowly, more of the red liquid begins to soak into its blue fibres, I hear muffled words, and then I see them, six figures, rushing towards me, guns raised, they shout, and I feel one of then kick me to the ground, my arms are pulled behind my back as they tightly lock my hands together. I lie there, still trying to make sense of what is happening, trying to understand what will be, and then I see it again, the red liquid, running away from me, along the tiles, towards the drain, and I can’t help but smile, maybe, one day, I might be lucky enough to make my escape, like they have, down, through the drain.