Alone Again. - A Roblox Flicker Story.

Chapter Six - Viewpoint.

She sat there, alone, eyes shut, till the lights finally flickered and shut off.

Just like the previous days, night had finally started.

MURDERER'S POV.

I sit down, alone in a cold room with a solid concrete floor. It physically hurts to sit on, but it was the best I could do to get away from the awful smell of rotting corpses. Nobody had died in this room. Well, they had, but there weren't any corpses in the room to prove it. I took a deep breath in and sighed, my palm on my forehead. I need to decide who would die. Most of the time, it really didn't take long, especially last night when Jackson just outright said his role. I breathe in and out, releasing a heavy sigh while exhaling again. My chest isn't heavy but my mind races with thoughts. I release my palm from my forehead, dropping it tiredly. I don't know where anyone is, and it's too early for me to walk around. People'd wake up. I don't want that.

As well as figuring out who'd be the one to die, I think of a way to kill them. I mean, sure, I stab them, right? But all my previous murders have been exciting or had some kind of flair. Indah had her head cut clean off; Charlotte had her lungs and guts ripped open; Jackson had his heart stabbed and his chest slashed. At this point, I just want to kill anyone. I need to be smart. I can't kill a suspect and I can't kill anyone that I think is evil. Obviously, Miguel has a massive target above his head for voting so it would be fucking stupid to murder him. I do, indeed, want him to die.

I get up from my rest and slowly creep out the room. I hear not a sound from anyone; presumably, everyone is asleep. Good. Scouting around for a singular person to stab, my feet slowly sink into the hardwood floors which creak every time I step down. Creak, Creak. While walking, I tie my hair up into a ponytail and step closer towards the entrance to the bedroom. I push open the door. Somehow, there's still someone in here despite there being a headless corpse at the foot of the bed. It's Mason. He's quietly snoring whilst sleeping on the bed. Admittedly, it does look comfy. I decide this will be the victim for tonight. Standing in the doorway, I drag a knife out my pocket slowly and walk up towards the side of the bed; half of the duvet is hanging off the side. I don't feel particularly bad or guilty, which is probably a bad thing. At the top of the bed, Mason's head rests on a pillow. Behind the bed, I stand with the knife in my right hand.

Mason is a good person, as is everybody else. Nobody deserves this, but I do what I have to do to win. Determination flows through my veins as I lift the knife up into the air above Mason's sleeping face. I close my eyes and breathe in. Breathing out, opening my eyes, I plunge the knife into Mason's chest. He screams a gut-wrenching scream but we both know he can't do anything about it. His breaths are heavy and scattered but I keep stabbing his chest. I move the knife upwards slightly and now start to damage his neck. A terrible mixture of Mason's dying screams, the sounds of violent stabbing and the wet sickly sound of blood oozing onto everything you could see, rings around the room and outside into the largest area. I begin to cut deeper into Mason's neck, almost sawing halfway through it. Everyone in the house, Mason included, knows that nobody will be able to do anything even if they walked in on me killing someone. I'd just kill them too. Blood is practically everywhere, including on my hands. After I finish up murdering Mason, I walk towards the bathroom. Apparently, it makes a good sleeping place because Tamia is sleeping on the floor, curled up into a ball, huddling themself together for warmth. I navigate my way around them and wash my hands in the sink quietly. I rub my hands on a towel located next to the sink to dry them and I briskly walk back to my original point: the empty room. Nobody else is in here with me. Just me, left alone to ponder my thoughts. I untie my hair and let it flow down beside me like a black waterfall. My white shirt is still yet to be stained by blood, thankfully, and my jeans haven't a spot of discolouration either. I lean against the wall and drift off to sleep...