'Miss Emma' 1998 - 2003

She existed once. I saw her arm . . . covered in scars. I knew these purple transverse lines, some still healing. She sat with a group and drank and drank. I didn’t approach her – (far too much trouble I thought.) After a while she got up, I’d seen that look a hundred times, staring back from the bathroom mirror. I went over to the group and spoke to a young man who was with her. We talked. He told me her name was Emma. ‘Yeah, she f**ks these guys, then cuts her self up.’ I was concerned for her, I even thought to go down to the ladies toilets and just go in, but decided not to. About five minutes later the barman came rushing through with a first aid box in his hand. Emma had cut her wrist. After the ambulance came, the Police interviewed the customers, so I was told.