One-Shots

Blood

Blinking my eyes rapidly, I stir from whatever form of unconsciousness I was in. The bright light of a lightbulb pierces my tired eyes, and I raise my hand to protect them.
I freeze. My hand drips large globs of dark blood, falling to the floor with a sickening smack.
I immediately panic. My hands roam my body to find any wound that could have possibly produced this much blood. The blood smears on my dark blue jeans and my yellow shirt, but I'm too focused on finding the wound to care.
After a thorough search of myself, I sigh in relief with the conclusion that I am not injured. However, this blood belongs to someone... But who?
An image flashes by in my mind, and it is so vivid and intense that I nearly scream; a knife, covered in blood, clasped tightly in my hand, and a blurred image of something akin to a body, lying at my feet.
My breath comes in short gasps, and right as I try to look at my surroundings, more images flood my brain: a knife plunged in someone's abdomen, a puddle of blood spilling out onto the floor, two blue eyes filled with tears, and the sensation of uncontrollable anger flooding through my body.
I scream loudly, covering my eyes and violently whipping my head back and forth. Tears stream down my cheeks as I realize what I had done.
I... killed... someone...? Me...?
I slowly open my eyes. My breath was ragged and harsh, and black spots began to fill my vision. My mind was a slideshow of gory, graphic images that I don't remember doing.
What did I do?
My eyes finally notice my surroundings. The harsh bright light was from a street lamp, and in front of me lies a body soaked in blood. My arms and legs move on their own, going on all fours and crawling towards the still corpse.
It was a man. He had floppy blonde hair, dull blue eyes, and attractive features. I shook my head, recognizing him through all of the blood.
His name was Derek, my boyfriend of ten months. Upon this discovery, I burst into tears once again, horrified at what I had done.
Why would I do this? What is the meaning of all of this? My mind screams.
More scenes flash behind my eyes. I was screaming at him, but I couldn't remember why. His eyes look sad, but not apologetic. In the scenes, I keep thrusting his phone in his face, but I can't remember what on the phone made me so furious.
And then, the knife appears.
I sob into his dead corpse, screaming apologies over and over. At one point, the police arrive and try to pull me off of him, but I kick and scream and fight with everything I have.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it; I'm so sorry!" I screech at his corpse.
I feel a stinging in my arm, and my world fades.

***

I was charged with third degree murder a week later. My lawyer had me plead insanity, so instead of jail time, I was sent to a mental institution, where I have to stay for twenty years before they judge whether or not I'm sane enough to return to society.
My parents cried for me, but only because they couldn't believe it. How could their sweet, innocent child commit murder?
I wish I knew the answer.
I've been in the asylum for three weeks now. I only know because the nurse told me; otherwise, the days here are blurred. I eat, sleep, and stay silent.
All I do is write in a little notebook the asylum gave me, saying it would help me cope. However, I think it's making it worse.
The flashbacks are still here, but once I started writing down my thoughts, they've grown worse. I don't know what's the truth anymore. Did I stab him in the stomach? Did I slit his throat? Did I bash him with a bat until he stopped moving?
I don't know, and I probably never will.