The goring of the first brave matador; a small victory for the bull in its last throes before knives stabbed frantically at its spinal cord, its final...release from torture.After seeing two fights Louisa couldn't take any more and asked to leave. They wandered in a bit of a daze round the thronging streets and slowly made their way back to the hotel to collapse into a hot sleep.The following morning they drove slowly through the wreckage of the party city, the parks carpeted with white and red. I wasn't allowed to go to his funeral. This was a little different. I was seventeen, now. My best friend was in a coma. A girl who I had known since kindergarten was no longer with us. It gave me pause to consider things.I knew God had a plan for all of us. It was something like this which caused people to question what purpose he had in mind for each one of us. Some even questioned their belief he could have a plan, for someone so young to be taken. Whenever I faced a real-life dilemma, my. More

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