Desperation

I’m laying here on the cold, hard floor.  The ground is sucking any warmth straight out of my body.  I’m writing this down, trying to do anything to keep my mind off of this bleak situation.  I reached down to readjust myself, just trying to find a comfortable position.  Well, more comfortable anyways.  The rough texture of the cement cuts into my knees and hands as I try to scoot myself across the floor.  A shooting pain races up my leg, and my hand is submerged in something warm and sticky.  I pull my hand up close to my face and try to see what it is.  Straining to see in this dim light, I realize it’s blood.  My own blood.  I know this because it’s seeping through my shorts and spilling onto the floor.  No, it’s not cut from the cement.  There is a huge gash in my thigh.  I have no idea where it came from, but the blood is spurting out in convulsing spasms.  My shorts are soaked.  Ok, this is really bad.  (Pardon the blood smudges, I’m trying to write and stop the bleeding at the same time)  The only light penetrating this room is coming from a window that’s near the ceiling on the far wall across the room.  It’s about thirty feet from where I’m laying.  When I say window, I really mean more like a vent to let moisture out.  There’s no way I could fit through it, even if I could reach it.  My right leg is completely numb.  I can’t feel it.  I may have a severed nerve or tendon.  I’m really starting to feel light-headed.  Thers blod everywere.  I maey hav a sverde tendon.  The windowe if only i can raech the window.  i have to reach the windwo

hlp. plaes halpe