8/22/10 You Know You Did It

This is a paper I wrote last year. The assignment was to write about a murder. It had to have been before or after not during. I took it into a little different perspective.

You Know You Did It

You look of it. You see of it. You feel of it, anger, adrenalin, rage, resentment, sorrow, guilt, and one big mistake. You're shaking and crying; you know what you did was wrong, bad, inhuman. Your scarlet paint stained blouse was what you called it; denial. It seemed right at the time, revenge was why. But was the cost worth a life? He was ruining yours, every day, picking at it like a scab; every time you recovered he would just make it bleed some more. His body lay there, still warm but motionless, lifeless. All you can do is stare. The world had not come to a stop; the birds still sang, the wind still blew, the sun still shined; nothing had happened. It wasn’t you, it was an accident, it was self-defense, you were at the store, you did it. The knife stays tight in your palms, your heart beating like a drum, your body pulses. You run, far away; to the next city, state, country, planet. No matter how far you go it’s always there, with you, in you, part of you, like a mountain to earth. Killer.