The cold, brisk air kept giving Malcroy a slap to the face as they ran out into the backyard. They have blood all over their face and clothes. Their dull, bleak, but dark clothes covered most of Malcroy's pale, white body. They had a bloody knife and scalpel in each hand, trying so hard to just throw these as fast as the howling wind that night. Deafening sirens of police cars could be heard, "Am I really this weak?" Malcroy quietly said as they hopped into the nearest shrub. Well, where should I go now? I don't know too many people who are willing to accept an emotionless gender neutral 19 year old. This one thought kept swirling around in the poor kid's head. If only I was back in Dublin. Then I could- Malcroy's depressing thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps and the small spotlights of torches. Shit. Malcroy quickly wiped off the fingerprints their small tools had left and buried them. They then bolted off to the opposite direction and didn't look back. They don't want to be caught now, it's starting to get interesting.
YOU ARE READING
At the End of the Rainbow Is A Pot of Gold
RandomName: Malcroy Byrne Age: 19 Height: 180 cm Hair Color: Dirty Blond Eye Color: Brown Sex: Gender Neutral Short Description: Tends to be emotionless in almost every situation. Doesn't care what people think of their gender neutrality. Committed homic...
