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"Go – go – they will get you." Her voice was weakening and there was something about her caring for our welfare that made me really want to help this frightened girl.
My eye was drawn to a movement from the dark recess of the stairwell. A slow seeping serpent of liquid flowed along the cold concrete floor. Only when it reached the edge and dripped onto my shoe, did I see it was blood.
Dylan reacted immediately, "She's hurt," he said, dashing into the darkness.
I went in after him. Using my phone for light; we followed the sound of her increasingly heavy breathing. I held onto Dylan's coat as we crept stealth like into the furthest corner of the grim communal space.
The floor was wet underfoot; I slipped and dragged Dylan down with me. He reacted quickly to ensure he didn't land on me, "Are you alright?" He asked, finding my hand and pulling me up. "Yes, I think so." I felt my back, it was: warm, wet and sticky. Shining my phone on my hand, we both saw it was covered in blood, "That's not mine," I said, focussing my phone onto the floor and highlighting a fresh trail of blood that led to a space under the concrete stairs.
"She's under here, we need to get her out," said Dylan, crouching down. I grabbed his shoulder, "Wait, don't rush under there," I said, crouching down next to him. We both shone our phones into the small space under the stairs.
When the light hit the girl, she didn't flinch. Her head remained slumped onto her gently heaving chest. We saw her try to lift her head, but it was a struggle that required strength and energy, and it was clear she had neither.
The light of my phone travelled all over her body, searching for the source of her bleeding. But it was Dylan who found the tool that opened her vein, when the light of his phone settled on the sharp, jagged glass of a broken bottle that lay by her side.
Dylan was matter of fact, "She's cut her wrists, we need to phone an ambulance."
I stepped back, stood up and began to dial the emergency services. But mid dial my hand was violently grabbed – "NO!" The phone flew from my hand and hit the wall before landing at my feet, shattering into smithereens.
I looked into the eyes of a big older woman who spoke with a strong Nigerian accent, "This is a domestic dispute, an ambulance is not required." I detected no threat in her words and after the initial force of her grab, I relaxed a little. "But she needs hospital care, she's bleeding badly," I said.
Dylan picked up my phone, and remained quietly observant. The woman nodded her head, "No. She needs my care. We have been here before, she is an attention seeker, a self-harmer; I will fix her."
The light from my phone blinked and flickered, drawing her attention to Dylan, "You young man, you were on the bus." Her tone changed and an edge of anger entered her voice, "You have felt the consequences of sticking your nose into other people's affairs." She threw an arm towards the exit, "Go, leave me alone to deal with my sick niece," she said.
