The girl asks me for tea. I do not recognise her face. She chatters and sings away. “I’m a little teapot, short and stout. “ Her giggles bounce off me like echoes in an empty room.

*We are hiding in separate bathroom stalls, listening to gunshots that reverberate through the hallway. The guy in the other stall gasps for breath, frantically searching for his inhaler. The bathroom door slams open…

I am sitting at a table adorned with a delicate lace tablecloth. Stuffed animals with vacant expressions and glassy eyes surround me. “Here is my handle. Here is my spout.” The girl slams the bedroom door shut.

*Heavy footsteps approach. A looming shadow appears in front of the stall next to me. I brace myself, but nothing could prepare me for the sickening thud that hammers against my skull.

“When I get all steamed up hear me shout.’’ The girl reaches for the teapot. As she pours me some tea, the liquid hits the porcelain in a dripping manner — like blood hitting a tiled floor…

*Blood escapes from under the divider.

She stirs her tea absentmindedly. The spoon clatters faster. Tea spills on the table.

*A sudden shriek leaves my throat. My door gets yanked open. A man drenched in blood raises his gun to my head. His cold eyes fixed on me as I press my back harder against the wall. That scene will be etched in my mind forever.

The cup slips from her grasp and tumbles to the ground. It shatters into hundreds of pieces. “Tip me over and pour me out! "

*He pulls the trigger. I collapse instantly.

It’s easy to imagine what might have been, had my mom let me skip school back then. But what’s hard to fathom, what makes my heart rend, is this new life as Emily's imaginary friend.

© Johannes Hendrik