The children looked up at me nonchalantly, before their eyes returned to their friend upon the floor. One girl seemed to struggle between what she had just seen, and all that shit about right and wrong that her mummy and daddy had force-fed into her. Her hazel eyes filled with tears, and she began to hit me. I laughed quietly, crouching down and bringing her -- tiny little fists and all --to me in a hug. She settled down as I wiped the tears from her face with a slightly bloodied sleeve.
"Darren..." she moaned softly. The boy's name. I spared a millisecond to glance at the little boy lying upon the floor, in a pool of beautiful red blood. Then I look back at her, brushing back her golden blond curls.
I reached into the pocket of my navy blue raincoat and pulled out something, placing it into her hand. A fruitknife. Just a little knife. She took it with hesitant fingers, and just a little awe at the blade, the way I had so easily handed it to her.
The corridor echoed with appoaching footsteps; the scuff of cheap leather shoes. I pressed a finger to my lips, and the children, while still making no move -- just staring at me, then Darren -- seemed to understand.
"It's all her fault." I whispered, before sifting like silica sand into the shadows of another corridor. Clutching my sleeves beneath my raincoat so nobody would notice, andheld my head highas Iwalked out of the kindergarten.