Clang!
The Chef’s knife slips from my hand and hits the white tile flooring.
I stare at the scene before me. It’s everywhere—So many people.
Then I look down at my hands—So much blood.
I feel it staining my skin—Staining my soul.
What happened? What did I do?
The last thing I remember was walking into the bathroom and turning on the faucet for the white tub.
This is bad.
What am I gonna do? I don’t have the cleaning supplies I need. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting the police catch me.
Spotting my phone, I scroll through my contacts until I find the number. The number I prayed I wouldn’t have to use again.
I press Dial.
***
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About the Creator
Amethyst Champagne
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I create fiction, poetry, and more. So, let's explore the realm of creative writing together!
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Comments (1)
Fantastic! I want a sequel! Why does he/she kill? Who’s the number belong to! Great story!