one of my best & closest friends in the whole universe, as she is always there for me :D
_______________________________________________________________________________
I sit alone in my dark bedroom. I was exactly right above the place where the two crimes were committed, one last year the other a two years ago. I hated my bedroom; below me was where my mother had died, where the man had been killed, well murdered, but still.
What did I do? Why did I have to do it? I can’t get the awful images out of my head. Blood running down his arm, falling to the floor, his eyes never leaving mine until they closed for the very last time, never to see the light of day again. Why? Also my mum, she wouldn’t leave my head either or the laugh the man made when she was dead. The whole he had made in her chest just haunted me like an old forgotten nightmare.
I am afraid of what might happen if I call the police. I don’t care if it has been a year, they didn’t know until a few weeks back. I mean I didn’t mean to kill him, but it was no accident either, it just wasn’t meant to turn out like that or planned to anyway.
It’s just he killed my mother, and then he started on me like it was my fault. A year after he killed her, we had gotten into a huge argument. He had grabbed a knife and pointed straight at my throat. I couldn’t breathe; I had thought I was going to join my mother. I panicked. He was talking like it was my last moment on this world. But I surprised myself as much as him; I grabbed the knife and pointed it to his throat instead. The man had then coaxed me on, saying I would not do it, that I hadn’t the heart. He told me I was too like my mother, always too kind and loving, so I would never do it. He drove me to it. He told me to do it. So I plunged the knife into his dark olive skin. I pulled the knife down his right arm. Warm, sticky blood oozed out of his arm, covering the knife and my hand, along with his arm straight away. The last thing he did was smile, an evil terrible smile. The image of blood and his smile has never left my head. At last I managed to pull the knife out of his arm, he yelled in pain and fell to the floor. All was silent. The man had died, smiling, knowing something I didn’t, and still don’t.
At the time I hadn’t known what to do with the blood stained knife. I just ran some cold water and washed the blood away, dried it and stuffed it in my bag. Now I wished I had just left him holing the knife, to make it look more like a suicidal attempt than a murder.
It has been a few weeks since I have killed that man. It was my mother’s death anniversary a few days ago; she had been dead for two years now. I feel terrible that I killed that man, so close; she would not have wanted it, but more to the point I NEVER wanted it to be like this. Now I guess I am a murderer, so I can’t live with myself. I just wanted a normal life with two parents, but now I can’t have that. I didn’t want to be a killer at just 18. I can’t go on like this.
I’m going to leave.
YOU ARE READING
Nothing And Then Love... (MAJOR EDITING)
Teen FictionA/N ~ If Max's name changes throughout the story to Cody, it is because I am editing this book, but they are the same person!! Cody just wants to have a normal life at the age of 18. However when he kills a man who killed his mother and his older si...
