There's a simple question that everyone seems to ask themselves, and yet no one knows the answer to until it actually happens. That's the time you go 'shoot, I'm dead,' and you mean it quite literally.

How will I die? And now just how, but when? Where?

I found out the hard way.

The year was 1910, and it was a glorious morning. Nothing seemed out of place. Of course, where I lived with my brother, Dan, my mother and father and my sister Lucy, was normally exactly the same everyday. Bustle right outside the front door, constant chatter flowing through the closed windows (you's be deaf if you had them open), chariots going past every half hour. Yep, that was my life. And I have to say, I enjoyed it.

Until it ended. Anyway, where was I?

I walked out the front door and clicked it shut behind me. Merging into the heavy flow of traffic was a challenge, but I made it without being bulldozed and trampled. That was always common there. Many kids who left home didn't make it back again; people seriously need to start watching where they're going, honestly!

Anyway, I made it to the familiar stall section of the city and followed the crowds of people around until I reached the shabby table and cloth stand that sold little everyday objects. The old lady who worked there looked helplessly up at me.

"Hey, how are you?" I asked her. She couldn't speak, or wouldn't; I could never tell. But she smiled a little, and bowed her head to me. I smiled gently back and had a look at the more expensive wares she had. I always came here first, before going anywhere else.

But before I could get anything, screams filled the air around me as men in black, bulletproof vests shoved through the crowd. They pushed me to the ground like a rag doll and siezed the woman behind the stall. She opened her mouth, but said nothing, her eyes wide with fear.

"No!" I cried. "Leave her alone! Please, she hasn't done anything wrong, let her go!"

They didn't.

So, stupidly, bravely, I leapt to my feet and threw myself at the men holding her. They pushed me back again, but this time I didn't fall. I shoved them again, and they turned on me instead, surrounding me like a solid wall of black vests and pure muscle. The men holding her released her and moved to close the gap through which I could see her, and she dropped to the ground in the blink of an eye. As they converged on me, I yelled out to her.

"Run!" I screamed at her. "Get out of here, go! And don't come back. Go!" She nodded and went to hand me something, but one of the men whipped around and jerked her head to the side. I heard the crack as her neck broke, heard her barely audible scream of pain, and saw her drop to the ground. The little silver fragment in her hand shattered as it fell with her and hit the stone floor.

I screamed and shoved through them. They followed me but I didn't stop. My instincts were screaming at me to run, to get away from there and survive. I ran, and ran, not stopping for what felt like eternity. I ran for all I was worth; shoving people over in my haste to get through was nothing new for everyone else; the same was true for hiding under stalls. When I escaped the market area, I dove behind some bushes and waited. It was a just a few seconds after that when I heard several pairs of footballs rush past, the wind from their speed rustling my auburn hair. I waited another minute before taking off in the opposite direction, towards home.

I heard the yells of "There she is!" and "Get her!" and knew it was too late. But my instincts wouldn't stop telling me to run, and my body refused to give up. I kept running, but as I ran past the shoe shop in town, a few blocks up from my house, something scraped my right thigh. I felt my blood seep through my white dress, and as I looked up from the red lines down my bare leg, I saw something that made my pulse speed up even more.

The men had ducked around and were driving me around into one of the alleys that lined the street. Or rather, the one alley that had a dead end. I wanted to stop but I heard more in pursuit and had to keep running. I went to turn away and head around them but one moved alongside me, preventing me from turning. I had no choice but to run straight into the alley. They sealed it off as I reached the end.

My head snapped from side to side as I ran my fingers desperately over the cold bricks that blocked my path to safety. I saw what looked like an opening and bolted for it, and I made it back onto the street. I was on my doorstep when someone grabbed my hair and threw me to the ground. My mother opened the door at my scream but she wasn't fast enough. The man who had grabbed pulled a sword from his vest, and wacked her over the head with it. She was gone before she hit the ground. I screamed as he turned on me. But to my disbelief he sheathed it.

This was just a distraction from what was about to happen.

Because through my blurred vision, I saw a black boot swing toward me, and instinctively raised my arms to protect my face. I felt it collide with my rib, felt it break, heard the crack as it snapped cleanly in two, and punctured a gaping hole in my lung. Air flooded my viens and I felt myself slipping. But before I did, I saw not the man's angered face, but my father's tear-stained one.

"Please..." I tried to say. Then I realised, as my blood pooled around my torso from the wound in my side, that there was no hope.

"I love you," I told him.

"Anna, no! Anna, please, please, no!" My father's pleading for me to hang on was the last thing I heard before my eyes closed, the light brightened, blinded me, then faded, and I exhaled for the last time. Then I floated away, and I was nothing more.

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But death isn't all that bad. It's perfect, really. Mum met me here, and Dad arrived soon after. Dan and Lucy are still there, and we're still waiting patiently for them to arrive. We watch them, protect them, make sure they survive. There's no such thing as evil now, no such thing as pain, only joy and things that resemble life. The memories of my life and death are still in my head, though. Where they'll stay forever.

No matter what.