Stab Me in the Head.... ONLY if I'm Dead

"Technically it's my knife since you took it from my flat, but it looks be'er in your 'ands. I never were much for slicin' and dicin'.” Daphne thought she could say that with complete honesty because it didn’t feel like something she wanted to do. Anyways, she certainly had no memory of stabbing a dead or dying carcass. Why fill any of their heads with that memory now?

“If this is purgatory then we’re all dead, but clearly that won’t stop us from dying again. So maybe climbing down into this ravine during the rain aren’t such a good idea? There, I said it. Now, less get on with the climbing.” Daphne kicked around at what was left of the long grass, wondering if they could use any of it to construct a rope or something. Maybe if they braided it together?


She instinctively ducked her head against the crack of lightning and thunder above. On second thought, being on high ground didn’t seem like the smart move either.

“Sod it, I’ll go first. But you promise me, Eris, if I fall and look all busted up like the dead girl you’ll stab me just to make sure. Try to wake me first. And fix my ‘air before you bury me. Shit, we go’uh bury her. Well, one thing at a time.” She had walked over to a section of the ravine wall that looked marginally less murderous. Daphne tightened up the straps to her rucksack and tested the rocks at the edge. This had disaster written all over it. She began to crawl down backwards, one foot then one hand at a time.

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