Knife Over Flame

I didn't mean to do....I really didn't. I just did it. Maybe he deserved it? Maybe this should have happened to him? But by me? Couldn't have someone else done this? Then I won't get the blame? Oh god, I'm going to get put in prison. But that depends how they think he died. I must let no one know that it was knife over flame.


2. Run run. As fast as you can.

Okay. It won't be too difficult. I just need to burn all the evidence. Simple.

I walked into my room, trying to push out the voice in my head screaming at me to run. The room was very empty as usual  And the only thing in my room was the bed and a chest of draws pushed into the corner. I went over to my rugged damaged suitcase and pulled my blood stained t-shirt over my head. Then shoved a random one on. Nobody will see the blood if its soon burnt to ashes. I tried steadying my thundering heart, but there was no point. I rummaged through my suitcase and pulled out a small rectangular box. My matches. Only two left, but it'l be fine.

I went back into the living room. The sight of the body was more alarming than I realized. I tried calming myself again, as I slowly walk to the body. 

It would be pretty obvious if they found the knife buried under the ashes with the burnt remains of the body. So taking it out is not optional. I grasp the knifes handle, and slowly pull the knife out. More blood oozes out and stains his clothes even more. I try to ignore it and throw the knife in the sink. Thank god that's done. I've never been squeamish about these things, but extracting a knife from somebody's body is not something I particularly want to do.

Okay. Now the matches. I need to make it look like it was an accident first so...I could set the wires alight? Make it look like an electrical problem? That's all I can really think of, apart from candles. Which isn't that realistic. I take the matches out of my pocket, and slip one out the box. My hands where shaking. I gulped hard, trying to control myself. It's not like I'm unfamiliar with this sort of thing, it's just I'd normally been the one watching. Or the only one who escaped.

I took hold of the match firmly and striked it twice. The flame flickered on to the match. It's warm and bright. Strangely the only thing to calm me down. I bent down to the wires of the TV  as the flame climbed around it and grow into the carpet. I watched it grow further watching the sparks from the wires, as I became more aware of the smell of burnt plastic filling the air.

I took the other match and placed it beside my already huge fire. The bigger the better. I watch the flames flood the small room and seep into mine and the kitchen.

What now? 

I've all ready done what Jim would have done. I burnt it. Trudy. The freak with the children's rhymes, stories, and fairy tails engraved into her mind. She also used to change them a lot. What would she say? 

Run. Run. As fast as you can. 

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