• I remember.
    I am not crazy.
    The boy did it.
    I don't remember.
    He did it.
    It's his fault.
    They know.
    Everyone knows.
    Because of him.
    He did it.
    He told them.
    Everyone thinks it was me.
    But I didn't do it.
    It was him.
    It was that boy.
    That boy with the knife.
    There was so much blood.
    My hands were wet.
    He had that knife.
    He smelled like salt.
    So much salt.
    And the red.
    The salty red.
    And he ran.
    He left me alone in blood.
    And they found me.
    But I was alone.
    They blamed me.
    But I didn't do it.
    It was that boy.
    It was him.
    The boy with the knife....
    He dropped the knife...!
    He left it there!
    I must find it!
    Then they would know.
    I didn't do it.
    It was the boy.
    The boy with the knife.
    Then I could get out.
    They would let me out.
    This jacket hurts.
    I don't like all the white.
    My house isn't white.
    It's cold and dark.
    And no blood.
    No more blood.
    With the blood is the boy.
    The boy with the knife.