Was that really necessary?

Hi all, I have recently been trying to get a good introduction for a story I'm writing, this is one of the pieces I've messed around with a bit. Thanks for reading! 

“Was that really necessary?” George asks me looking at the sharp knife in my hands cautiously. That was about twenty-four hours ago, at the moment I am sitting in a dark cave watching the lightening illuminate the world.

I am fifteen years old running away from myself; I am a murderer, a monster and a girl. I murdered two men injuring several others and managed to run away, but not before George confronted me.

“Was that really necessary?” he asked me and those four words cut me like no blade can, was it really necessary? And then I ran. I ran away from my parents, I ran away from school, I ran away from George and last of all I ran away from the police.

They are now after me, just about everyone is, they want to know what happened, what took over me. Funny, isn’t it, how life can change so suddenly without a warning. One minute I was at a party, the next I was confronted by a strange man, and then I became a murderer.

Am I supposed to be sorry? Am I supposed to wish it never happened and beg for forgiveness? No I am not weak and I will not give in. I am running away, never to be found, I can live with the knowledge that I murdered them, I can live with everything but George’s words.

The rain is falling steadily, I wonder what God thinks. I have been raised a Christian but it never appealed to me. My parents were wrong to force something upon me; they were convinced I was just acting rebellious and I would grow out of it but oh no! It started when I was eleven. I was bullied quite a bit before I was eleven but at the age of eleven something inside me snapped. I broke someone’s nose that year. Dyed my hair and started hanging out with the ‘wrong crowd’ – at least that’s what my parents think.

The ‘wrong crowd’ made me feel special, they relied on me as much as I relied on them, and not having real friends before I stuck with them to the end.

I guess I should stick George in this story to, he is a loner and as I was waiting for my friends one day he approached me.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked me, looking at my tight fitting clothing. It was Sunday and he was in his Sunday best, I had no doubt that he had gone to Church before our meeting. But his words had me thrown off guard and I actually gave it some thought.

After five minutes in silence I saw my friends and made my way over to them laughing along but his words still hung in my mind like a curtain, choosing to be both there and not there.

I didn’t hear any more of him that year, I occasionally saw him walking out of the door of the house opposing mine; never once did I think to talk to him, he had no friends, no one else to talk to but I didn’t wish to give up my reputation.

When I was fourteen I started drinking, I liked the bitter taste of alcohol on my tongue, I snuck out a lot, my window on the second floor no boundary to me. I learned how to climb trees that year seeing as one is located by my window – a perfect opportunity to sneak back in unnoticed not that my parents didn’t know I snuck out. They obviously did but how could they have stopped me? I bet that question was running through their minds too.

George found me one night too drunk to climb the tree outside my window.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked me again, this time I answered; “because I have no choice.” He looked at me hard before replying –

“No, you had choices, every action you do results in more choices, are you so blind you cannot see that?” I sobered up quickly and thought about it. Yes I did have a choice, yes I may have took the wrong one but I cannot change my actions.

I climbed up the tree quickly and watched the moon light shine on his tousled brown hair. For a loner he is quite good looking, I remember thinking before jumping under my covers and falling asleep.

I have never ceased making those bad mistakes and last night was one of them.

I was at a party like every other night. I was dancing with some random guy whom insisted on shoving his tongue down my throat every chance he got. I saw one of my close friends leave with the guy I liked and exploded. I ran out but she was gone.

My friends quickly closed around me trying to calm me down but it was too late. I grabbed the knife I always keep in case of emergencies out of me left boot and started wildly lashing out. The only thing that woke me from my trance is the feel of warm blood on my skin.

Looking down I saw I had killed two men, two of my friends. All my friends are older than me, some by more than five years.

As I started walking I saw George standing quietly looking at me. I saw a deep gash on his left arm, killing my friends bought no emotion from me, but George whom I have never gotten to know being hurt by my hand bought tears to my eyes.

“Was that really necessary?” he asked me, I couldn’t answer so I ran. I ran away from everything, running deep into the night. I found this cave and slept all day, I was not once troubled by the fact that any wild animal could kill me in my sleep and that I might awaken in hell.

The thunder has stopped and the rain has eased, I look out at the night, the rain stops all together and I set off to find a stream, any stream.

I find one quickly, with rain like this there is more than enough water running down to the village I call home. I stare at my reflection, I have seen it for so long but each time it seems like an alien image to me.

I have long black hair down past my waist; it was one thing I couldn’t give up when I was eleven. Lighting illuminates the world yet again as the storm moves further south, in the flash of light I see I have pale skin, my face appears bloodless and oh so white, my eyes look like black holes with no whites.  

I know what my friends would do in my situation but I also know what I am going to do. I take my knife out, it still smells like blood. I begin hacking my hair off, a bit by bit, the sudden pain making me smile.

My hair is now short, my eyes are now black, my clothes are in shreds, scares adorn my body and I am lost, both in this world and in others.

I go back to my cave awaiting the sun, awaiting a sign, awaiting my destiny and my punishment.

I am waiting for you to come and rescue me, where are you?