Why do I write violent things lol

another thing

He starts to laugh a little as he slides down the wall, holding his head in his hands.
His laugh slowly starts to grow more maniacal.
He mutters, "They made me do it, they made me do it... I had no choice. It wasn't gonna stop till they were gone."

His laughter dies down and then stops. He lets out a bit of a shaky sigh, before bursting out laughing again. He leans his head back against the wall and looks up at the ceiling, laughing as tears are running down his face.

He calms down a bit, panting a little, and catches a glimpse of the bloody knife out of the corner of his eye.

He slowly reaches out and picks it up. He pulls it in toward his lap and runs his thumb up and down the handle a little, smearing some partially-dried blood around on it.

He just watches as his thumb smears the blood around, before looking at the blood that is dripping off the tip of the knife.

He watches it, mesmerized as the thick sanguine liquid almost rhythmically pools at the tip of the blade, becomes too heavy, and separates itself from the knife and falls to the floor.

The bloody floor.