English lesson - 10/9/15

Go To Hell

He had been rich all his life. He didn't know any other way. Staring down at his dirty hands, he wondered how his life had gone to hell... Daniel dropped the bloodied letter opener to the ground. He stood, shaking from shock, watching in horror as blood leaked out from under his friend he had just killed. Daniels knees buckled and he collapsed into a leather armchair staring ahead unblinkingly. His hands staining the arms of the chair scarlet.

Daniel gathered himself to look around the blurry room, witnessing the array of his study, where the struggle had taken place. He looked at the old Persian rug where the row had started. He had just invited his friend up for a drink, but his real intentions were to ask his friend about his money and if he enjoyed having a wealthy ally. This topic had started and argument, which grew into a fight. Daniel had accused his friend of stealing money, being jealous and wanting to kill him (of course he denied this all).

Daniel looked away from the blood, he couldn't stand the sight of blood. he started to feel sick. He needed a brandy. He jumped up promptly and strode across the the blood stained rug (without sparing a glance at his friend). He stepped to the cabinet for a spare glass. He grabbed one with  shaky fingers and whipped around to the brandy on his desk... only... it wasn't there, he had thrown it earlier at his colleague hitting him squarely in the face. Outraged by this, his friend had charged at him to do anything to cause him pain. Daniel reacted quickly, his hands fumbling around on his desk and meet with something cold and long. He brought round the gem encrusted letter opener to his attacker who was inches away from gripping him.

Daniel shuddered at the thought, he could not bear it. He placed down the glass and laid his hands on on his red oak desk to desist the trembling. 'You're a murderer' a voice feigned inside his head, 'no I'm not' Daniel replied. 'But of course you are! you killed your best friend... haha... or... is that bloke just sleeping?' it was taunting him. 'No! i... it... it was the only way' he said, stuttering his words. 'I suppose you're right' said the voice, 'it is how your dad kept his wealth... and his dad, and his dad, and his da-'. 'yes alright, i get it!' Daniel bellowed. 'Temper, Daniel, temper' it said in a mock-baby voice. 'But perhaps instead of yelling at me, or rather yourself? i don't know, whatever. You should clean up a bit Daniel, you've got guests tonight!'. 'Don't remind me' Daniel said gloomily. 'Haha... come now Daniel... tick tock... tick tock... tick tock, tick tock' it sang with glee. 'But i am kinda busy right now so i'll see ya later... murderer'.

Daniel knelt down next to the limp body. He grabbed a shoulder and heaved him onto his back. The horrible, pale face of his friend stared up at him with fright on his face. Blood had seeped out on to his white shirt, blood on his jacket which was the colour of bracken. it was harder to see the blood on Daniels maroon jacket and dark navy shirt. He stared into his eyes as he remembered the last thing his acquaintance said to him: go to hell.