[Blood, gore, non-explicit triggery stuff]
Your line of vision is horizontal, which is strange. You can't move, which is odd as well.
You feel like you're trapped in a nightmare. It might be a nightmare. You might wake up in a second with her hand pinned to your chest and her long black hair streaming over your skin in a soft straight wave - shh, it's okay.
Your eyes sting, and there's red at their corners, dripping in from above, making long tracks across your face. The left won't focus right, like a camera lens that's been knocked off kilter, but the right still sees just fine.
She's laying across from you. Her long dark hair is clumped around her face, clinging to her skin with the blood as it dries. She's beautiful under all that blood, and you can still see it, even now. You can see the blossoming lines of scarlet from the stab wounds in her abdomen, the blood between her legs. They remind you of a mermaid's tail, stacked atop each other, exposed and white, spattered and lined with veins of red that streamed down when they had her pinned to the wall. They're bare up past her hips, her blue dress hiked all the way up to her stomach. Her breathing has gone ragged, one breath, then a long space, then another. Her eyes are fixed on yours, and you can't blink. You're going to pass out soon, and you know it.
You couldn't get there. It's just ten short feet between you, between your outstretched hand and her body, and you couldn't move. You had to watch.
Her eyes are still staring back, her mouth twisted with the pain, tears making futile tracks through the blood coating her face. Her lips are moving, but she isn't saying words. You think you can tell what she's trying to get out, though. She's worried about you.
But her eyes are glazing, growing distant. You see it. She's drifting. You recognize it. You saw it when you watched her fall asleep once, laying next to her in bed, warm and comfortable, trapped and tangled under blankets, holding her gaze until she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. It's like that, but this time her eyes stay open. She's there, she's drifting, and then she isn't.
You're conscious for another minute, looking at her still body and her blue eyes, still almost meeting yours, but staring past, staring through you. Her eyes have been left behind. You think you hear sirens. It's the middle of the day, and the sunlight from the window is warm on your face. Your vision goes in and out of focus again, in and out, drawing you deeper into the black each time, and then there's nothing. There's nothing at all.