A Descent into Darkness

Unexpected Happiness

I stand there over the body, my hands trembling. No, he's not dead. He can't be. I'm not a killer. I'm not. Those injuries are totally survivable. A few stab wounds, a slashed throat... yeah, who the fuck am I kidding?

Around me, a light rain begins to fall, causing some of the blood to run down by body.

I did it. I am a killer.

I let out a little laugh at that though.

Wait. What? Am I happy about this?

I look down at the body and see he died with his eyes wide open. He was probably so scared.

I laugh again.

Okay, this is seriously messed up.

But right after I think that, another though replaces it. Why is this seriously messed up? For years, I have forced myself to think this is wrong. But the truth is, as the realization hits that I actually have done it, I am slowly starting to get the opposite feeling on the inside. For some reason, this feels right. I feel like I'm a hundred pounds lighter. And then I laugh again. But longer. And louder.

I'm not laughing because this is funny, though it is. I'm laughing because I feel better than I ever have. Because for the first time in years, I feel like I am truly being myself. Now that the shock is wearing off, I feel calm. Relaxed.

I really shouldn't be this calm. Even if I accept the fact that I'm a killer, albeit partially in self defence, in stride, I'm still at risk of being spotted by someone walking down the nearby sidewalk, while covered in blood, holding a knife, over a dead body. And yet, there's no one around. No car has driven by since I exited mine. I probably have the pandemic and the rain to thank for that. It's the kind of night people just prefer to stay home. Though, I shouldn't take that for granted. I pull my hood over my head, but I still shouldn't linger here in the alley too long.

As I stand here, I realize for the first time that I'm feeling a twinge of regret, but it's not regarding the morality of what I've just done. It's over the fact that I didn't really take my time to enjoy it. Hell, I didn't even realize what I was doing until after. You know that feeling when you eat the most delicious meal ever in one bite and swallow it before you can really enjoy the taste? That's what I'm feeling right now. I feel a sense of dejection with that. Is this going to be my only taste of murder?

Come to think of it, does this really count as murder? There was an unmistakable element of self defence. The guy was going to kill me. What does stop me from just calling the cops and telling the truth?

In response, my eyes go to where I cut his throat. The stab wounds would probably be covered under self defence. I was being threatened and needed to neutralize the threat he posed. But the moment I put my hand on his mouth and slit his throat while he was already on the ground, this crossed into something very different.

At a minimum, I'd probably be looking at manslaughter, worst case, second degree murder. Though... I look at the knife in my hand and then down at the mugger's throat. I could stab it repeatedly and make it seem like that was also in the heat of the moment while neutralizing the threat. The rain washing away and distorting the blood on the ground could make it harder to forensically determine what happened here... while at the same time making it harder to trace back to me. The police do have my fingerprints and DNA, but would the rain leave any of that behind here?

"Hey! What are you doing?!" yells a voice from where the alley meets the sidewalk. I look up and see through the rain, someone standing there with their dog. I raise the knife so they can see it. They freak out and run, probably figuring I'm going to chase them. The satisfaction in me only builds. The way I just terrified that person, and all I had to do was hold the knife up. Oh, having that power feels so good.