Step 1: Move your lower leg. Feel the earth move beneath it, the shifting scratch of roots and leaves and soil. Taste the metallic back of your throat. If your dress strap has fallen from your shoulder, pull it up and wince as it presses into the bruise.
Step 2: Open your eyes. See blood rusted onto your leg. That will help. Think: the sweet rim of the glass, the dizzying flash of lights, the soft wet press of mouths. Scattered snapshots, barbed and duplicitous.
Try not to listen to the wind as it whispers through the leaves.
Step 3: Stand. Place one foot in front of the other. And again. And again, until you reach a road or an early morning dog walker. Someone will stop. Someone will help.
Remember to say you screamed.
Remember to cry.