Her blood was flowing down my fingers as I held on the the sharp edged pine cone. The metallic smell was filling my nose, making me feel nauseated, and I stumbled back a step. I imagined myself covered in red, her blood all over my face, my arms, my legs, my chest, my back, and even inside my shoes, my feet swimming through the blood. My thoughts became impossible for me to rely on.
I quickly let go of the makeshift weapon I'm holding and secure my face between my hands, crouching down. I'm suddenly feeling an urge to scream, to let it all out, but I hold it all in, knowing that someone would probably hear me and call the police. Or, ironically, even come to my rescue. As if I'm the one with the need of rescue.
Her body lay crumbled on the ground. Her white blouse, now turned red, was shredded to pieces, her neck arched in a weird angle, eyes shiny with unshed tears, staring hopelessly at the sky without really seeing it, and I think, I did this. I killed her.
The blood was already pooling and soaking the brown autumn leaves, the stabbing wounds on her stomach leaking most of the blood. I had buried the knife already, as far down as I could on this forest ground. When I'd seen her eyes fluttering open, I'd grabbed the pine cone off the ground and hit her countless times in the head with it, as my last desperate move. Her blood had sprayed all over my face the moment my makeshift weapon touched her skull, crunching it again and again and again.
Now, as I look at her, I allow myself to cry over her corpse, silently, on this cloudless night. The stars shine over my head as beautiful as the full moon on display, making me feel sick. This contrasting thought makes me throw up, or maybe it's just the realization of what I just did washing over me.
I hated the motherfucker that took her away from me, that manipulated her into thinking I was a monster. And maybe he was right. But it shouldn't have been her. I should have killed him. Ripped him apart, into pieces, proving him right. I am a monster.
But it shouldn't have been her. She wasn't supposed to have come her tonight.
I'm so sorry Gia. I loved you so much.
Oh my God, what have I done?
