You came over last night, after you and your boyfriend got in a fight. You told me you were scared, i said you'd be fine as my anger flared. I knew what had happened, even before the bruises on your cheek began to appear. And so i prayed silently that instead of you it was me in the mirror. I knew you couldn't handle it, i knew it shouldn't be. We talked for hours, till we heard him in the hall, i heard you cry, when you saw me fall, i knew i shouldn't cause you told me no, but this new man of yours had got to go. So many thoughts rushed through my mind, What should i do? Who should i call? then i found the only number i should have in my book, as he pulled out a knife and told me not to look. "This game," you told me, "Is no longer fun.." as i reached for the phone in attempt to dial 9-1-1.
