I went home.

I stood in front of the mirror with the bloddy knife still in my hand.

Blood.

Everywhere.

Tears falling from my face.

And I broke down.

Nonstop tears were falling from my face as I screamed for the image in my head to disappear.

The image of my mom crying for help.

The way she looked at me for the last time before she closed her eyes forever will be clear to me.

For the rest of my life.



But i know i didnt cry because I killed someone.

No

I cried because I know what is still to come.

And what still has to be done.

What a shame for that guy huh?

What a shame.

What a shame.







What a death.

What a bloddy death

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