Have you ever killed someone?Feel your victims blood run down your body? See life leave one's eyes as you slowly insert a sharp knife through their chest. Or see the knife glide on their neck slicing the soft flesh as blood oozes out? Hear the bones...
I raised my heavy eyelids halfway only for them to fall shut. I raised them again and swung my bare feet on the wooden floor. It was cold and sticky underfoot, must have been the beer. One bleary look told me what has happened in the room. I push myself up through the scattered mess.
Once I'm on my feet the room sways almost causing me to lose balance forcing me to reach out for the wall. My hand slips along the high sheen paint as I sprawled onto the wooden floor with a crashing thump. The room swirled before becoming stationary again. I use the bedstead to pull myself to standing again. I perch myself on the bed reaching out for the tissue from the tissue box placed on the bedside to clean the dried-out blood on my neck.
My heart beats fast and there is a buzzing in my brain and together they are as panic with jump-leads. Only now my brain is as a flat battery, the sitch of the night is a marathon of erratic problem-solving.
I watch the small hand-carved wooden cat placed on the rack connected to the bed before bending down to open the drawer beneath it.
I am not someone who knows much about antique and decorative things but I've always loved things craved from wood because despite how smooth and elegant they look after finishing only a crave man's fingers who withstood all the cuts and piercings know the hard work behind it. This cat attracted my eyes with its unfinished look and authentic layout.
I look inside the drawer for the material I wanted and quickly get to work.
//
I was almost done with everything when a commotion from upstairs caught my attention.
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I slip back into the bedroom, my back against the wall trying to breathe as slowly as possible. He can't see me from outside but I can surely enjoy the show.
He walks down the stairs with rash steps as if he's seen a ghost. His words ring back in my head it's going to be a long night. And I chuckle inside as I mumble " you aren't wrong."
Stranger POV
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A feeling of anxiousness poured into me just like ink into the water slowly filling up all the voids.
Have you ever been afraid of your own action? How does it feel? Just a moment ago you were so sure about it like you will have no regrets no remorse. Where does it all go wrong? when does the knife prepared by you to stab others turn back to stab you?
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I tell myself that this feeling is simply brain chemicals, my amygdala pinged, and then I try to analyze the situation as I may without it. I shouldn't have thought about the past I shouldn't have let those memories in again to haunt me. I made a mistake and now I have no idea what to do about it. I can't throw the pictures of his smiling face no matter how hard I try. my brain ripples with all the memories as it becomes too loud for me to even breathe in a completely silent house. I try to imagine it from the outside as if it were a movie and not real life. Then I ask myself what my "character" should do. And the best response I get is to get out of the house. today is not the day.
I walk down the stairs drowned in thoughts of an escape plan when my leg suddenly hits something which was clearly not visible to the eyes and I fall and groan in pain as a bunch of pins pierce my flesh. The pain takes over a portion of my brain as if dealing with it is energy expenditure enough, without the effort of new thoughts.
