Come With Me

Chapter 1, Part 5

     Five or six other hand prints were pressed into the carpet, illuminated blue.  I lifted mine up, and it also left a blue print.  Mine was a more vibrant sky blue, though.  Drops and splats of blue both soaked into the carpet and painted on the walls tied the picture together in a horrifying collage. 

     My eyes scoped her bed and found the larger blade, glowing soft platinum.  Tiffany was facing away from me, admiring one of her walls.  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”  She mused to herself.

     My small footsteps hardly made a noise as I padded to her bed.  I reached out with a shaky hand towards the knife.  It was cold.  The tip scraped the comforter for a brief second, scratching into the silence. 

     The blue blood disappeared and was replaced with what looked like a normal room when she switched lights.  I hope that was terror in her eyes when she turned to face me.  I hoped my sudden anger make the wavering I knew would be in my voice dissolve.  “Open the door, Tiffany.”  The knife steadied in my hand as I saw her back up towards her closet.  The hunting knife held eye contact with her; it never blinked. 

     She put her hands slightly in front of her and lowered her head.  “All right, Matt.  I have a spare in my closet.  Just let me get it…”  My jaw clenched as she started digging in a drawer.  But she didn’t pull out a key, she pulled out a pistol.  Great. 

     She smiled sadly at me, cocking the gun.  “Matt, I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if that knife doesn’t make a safe home on the floor.”  She said it so matter-of-factly, so unlike a killer.

     At least I can tell myself I tried to save my life, but as I set that knife down on the carpet and watched her pick it up and put away the pistol, I couldn’t help but think there was more I could do; so I jumped her.

     She let out a girly wail and her stick-thin legs gave out from under her.  I jammed my forearm under her chin, pinning her to the ground, and that’s when she stabbed me.  It entered my gut with an unwelcomed bite, and I couldn’t decide if it was warm or cold.

     I flopped off of her like a rag doll.  Some of my blood was on her chest, glimmering.  She started to half-heartedly wipe it off.  “Okay, Matt, you know what?  If you really want to leave, you can.  Fine!  But first, I need a nap.  You?” 

     My eyelids were heavy and I actually did feel like passing out.  She pressed a white cloth to my face, whispered, “Sleep…” and I was gone.