I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.

I suppose you want to know what happened. It was Geoff. In the bedroom with a vase. Not a very imaginitive death, really. But there you go. I went from a person to a statistic in the blink of an eye.

Dying is an odd sensation. Like when you're really drunk or hungover and the room spins when you sit up. It's just like that. I watched as he ran around wiping up the blood, hiding the vase. It would have been quite funny in different circumstances. I watched as he lied to the police, playing the bereved husband. I watched as he hit on the pretty young policewoman as she made him coffee. I watched as he left the house to go to the pub - the pub! It was then I got the vase from where he had hid it and dropped it off at the police station.