The creak of stairs alerted me.
My heart starts racing and I hide my backpack under the bed.
The steps are now on the carpet that covers the entire floor. A muffled sound that makes my anxiety spike.
I pick robe, to cover my self, from the closet and ran to the bathroom, as I hear the door opening.
- Honey, do you want something eat, the dinner it's still gonna take a while?- My mom says.
- No mom, I'm good, thank you.
She leaves and I let my breath. My hands are shaking and my pressure dropped.
I looked at the mirror. My clothes stained with blood to the point of not being able to see the original color. The knives inside the backpack on the same state.
I don't know what it's worst, the fact that I killed someone, or the fact it had the same face as me.
YOU ARE READING
Short scary stories
HorrorIn this book I'm going to write short horror stories about different topics. I'll put a notice at the beginning, if there's a more sensitive topic. I don't accept copies or adaptations. Have fun reading, see you on the other side.
