Revenge
Her hands shook as she washed the blood away in the sink, but her hands refused to come clean. She scrubbed and scrubbed, but the red would not wash away.
She finally gave up, wiped down everything down, tossed the paper towels in the trash, and left the bathroom with her betraying hands shoved deep into her pockets.
She’d hoped that once the deed was done the blackness in her heart would ease, but all she felt was emptiness, paranoia, and discontent. She wanted to be free of the horrors of her past, but now she seemed to be sinking deeper into it.
She withdrew from those around her, and even her job, one of the only things she loved held little excitement for her now. She tried to appear as nothing was wrong, but she was sure everyone knew.
Her hands were no longer just stained red–they openly dripped blood.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and any footsteps behind her caused her to run and find a safe place to hide. Her guilt weighed heavy on her mind, and she knew she’d bleed to death from her gory hands.
On the fourth day her mind could no longer withstand the pressure. She could no longer bare the burden of guilt any longer. Blood dripped from her eyes and mouth now. She could no longer hide her crime.
She staggered into the nearest police station and screamed, “I did it. I killed him!” Before collapsing into a heap upon the floor.
A young officer ran to assist the pained young woman on the floor. She was gaunt and pale, but unhurt. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen guilt of what someone had done tear them apart, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.
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