I had felt fear before, but never like this. I felt unimaginably sick, like someone's fingers were down my throat and wouldn't take them away and sweat beaded everywhere. My hands were like they had been dunked in water and I was shaking so violently that I could barely see. Desperately, I swallowed and backed away from my friend.
"Will you help me, Emily?" She asked, taking a step down the stairs.
"Get out." I gasped, words not forming properly in my head.
"But I need your help, Emily." She took another step.
"I can't help you." I whispered.
"But you're all I have left." Another step.
"Please, Hannah, just leave."
"No, I won't!" Angry, she skipped down the last few steps quickly and was standing right in front of me, "Not until you help me."
"Fine, what do you want?" I hoped that it would be quick and she would be gone, then I would call the police and run to another friends who had parents round who could protect me. Once I had thought of myself as brave, able to give my life for another in a second; oh how wrong I was.
"I need a place to hide out, in case the police come looking for me."
"What do you mean in case? Of course they'll find you." I growled.
"Well anyway," It was like she had been before she turned into a murderer, "I need somewhere to hide out. You have to help me."
"What?" I laughed, "Let you stay here? And have some biazrre little sleepover like we used to do when we were younger? Are you crazy?"
She paused, "I think so."
I siezed the oppertunity to persuade her, "Then there are people who can help. If you turn yourself in you can, you know, plead insanity and get a lighter sentence," I swallowed my personal feelings. The idea of her outside of prision made me feel even more sick and my palms pricked, but I had to get her to agree, "It would make it so much better, Hannah. You could get help." Earnestly, I nodded, feigning friendship and the innocence that went along with it.
She stood still.