Angel Eyed (DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE)

thirty

When I was a kid my mother always joked about what my job would be when I graduate college. Of course she wanted me to become a mathematician just like her and dad, but she was open to sciences, especially biology even though it involved the least math. And whenever we were at the hospital, I've always been fascinated with people who can stomach the sight of unconscious bodies being meddled with. How they can just grab a knife and cut open someone’s skin with precision. It was amazing, and most of the time the people they cut open wake up to live longer lives because that's the main purpose of an operation, to save someone. I never dreamed to ever go under them, not to mention perform it. That's the exact opposite of what I just did.

I admit, I'm a bad person. I'm a liar, I complain about things I shouldn't be complaining about and most importantly I sold out one of the people I care about the most; but I never imagined of killing someone. I never dreamed of hurting someone and now I’ve done every possible way to do so. Maybe I do deserve to be betrayed by Bill. I deserve to witness such a bloody exchange, and I deserve a boulder of solidified guilt weighing down on me, but that man didn't. I had no idea, but that man probably has his life ahead of him. He has kids and grandchildren, and I’m in here wishing I’m anything but alive. He’s survived all his life to come to this point and just like that he’s dead because I was an idiot. A total fucking idiot. Even though I regret it for a million years, I won’t bring him back to life, however reality wasn’t enough to stop me from bawling my eyes out again for the millionth time today.

Right after I killed him, Stella guided me away from the body and instructed me to wash off the blood on my arms so that's what I did. I hurtled to the nearest restrooms and dunk my head into a toilet bowl, puking all alcohol I drank the night prior. It tasted disgustingly vile, along with all the disturbing thoughts corrupting my head as I emptied out my stomach. I didn't stop from crying when I was done, staining the corners of the toilet with blood. It was extremely difficult to get rid of the blood, even under running water it didn't come off and it didn't help my ugly reflection was on the mirror the entire time I was doing it, staring at my arm as I rubbed the sticky red off. I didn't know who that girl was, I know she looked like me, but she wasn't me. I don't know when I became this person, but this isn't me.

Even as I finished, my arms were still stained with a tinge of red to repeatedly remind me of the monstrosity I put myself into. I kept asking myself why but I still didn't come to a conclusion. I sat down a waiting shed in the hallways, propping my legs up and hugging my knees against my chest. It was still unbearably cold, the nurse uniform drenched in both my sweat and some more blood I didn't know how to get rid of. I didn't care anymore, and I didn't want to try to remove it. My arms swelled but my entire body was numb. I haven't accidentally given myself a shot of anesthesia, however all there are were my thoughts screaming at me, almost like I was paralyzed. The only difference was, I could feel the waterfalls falling from my eyes.

What would my parents say? What would Bill say if he found out I killed someone? Why did Stella leave me? Is this what I get after an entire day of unfortunate events? I could only ask more questions and the answers were no where to be found. It’s like, every single thing I do to fix the mess I created ends up messing it up even more. Like when you try to get a stain off a fabric with another stain and it rubs it all in, before you know it it's absolutely ruined. I sobbed, my shoulders shaking as I bury my face in my arms in the attempt to conceal the ugliness. Thankfully there weren't many people in the hallways, just the occasional passer by and they just ignore me.

The shed creaked next to me, my head tilting up in reflex to find Chester, his face blurry behind the curtain of tears covering my vision. Just like that everything he did to me that I was thankful for vanished. He was one of the reasons I was there. If he didn't bring me to Stella, she wouldn't have made me help her with her surgery, and I wouldn't have killed the old man. Nevertheless, there was no use in blaming him. It was too late, and I was the one in there fucking trying to bring him back to life and failing miserably. For all I know they planned this to make a fool out of me and laughing at my stupidity, just like how they did when they made me drink acid the first time and I was rubbing my face all over the floors.