Scared, or scarred; take your pick.

I was scared. Literally scared.

I knew this because I could feel the pulsating, patterned palpitations of my heart in my fingertips. That usually only happened when I had slept on my hands, or sat on them, and the blood rushed back, or my heart was beating so hard I could barely think straight.

I could see my heartbeat. Well, feel it in my eyes, too. It was weird. But, not as weird as the dead body laying at my feet.

Or the blood pooling around of my limited edition, pink, gold, and white Nike running shoes. I really liked these shoes, too.

It also wasn't as weird as the knife I had in my hand. It was your standard, run-of-the-mill kitchen knife, used for cutting up vegetables or meat for cooking.

However odd this was, the fact was still evident; the blade was in my hand. Not to mention, it was drenched with blood; not from an animal, but the body at my feet. At least, maybe it was. It would be weird if it weren't.

I dropped the knife and carefully stepped back, my foot steps leaving outlines of my shoes on the hardwood floor. The grooves were slowly filling with the blood, but there was so much. Why was there so much blood? I looked at my hands, shaking a bit with... excitement? If I had just killed this person, how could I be excited? Was I crazy? Was I?

What if I were? What if this were a dream? What if? I shut off my thoughts, just long enough to get my bearings. I was in a house, in the middle of a living room. Posh hardwood floors, lush leather couches, a glass topped wooden based, seemingly hand crafted, coffee table, and a small lamp lit up the room.

My hands had just a bit of that red blood on it. It almost started to wipe it off on my pants, but then I noticed they were around my ankles, and my shirt was ripped. My fingers danced nervously over my stomach and I gripped the material and pulled. It gave easily, and I used it as the rag it was to clean my hands before moving through the posh house to find a sink and soap.


I almost tripped over a stupid cat. It was lanky, with a bobbed tail, but it was white with a large black spot on it's left side. It's feet were socked with the black fur, and the tips of it's ear's were black as well. I knew that cat. It was my boyfriend's cat. "Damn it, Lucifer.. watch where you run." I spoke, startling myself.

My voice had me jumping slightly, bouncing and hugging myself. I must have sounded foreign to myself, that or my conscious finally kicked back in. It did. I kept questioning myself. Why was there a dead body in my living room? That's right. This was my house. But, why were my pants around my ankles? And, even more curious, why did I have the knife?

Lucifer, the cat, rubbed himself against my legs and then slinked off elsewhere. I finally made my way across the linoleum floor and found a sink. I used the back of my hand to push the hot water knob to full blast. I rinsed my hands first in the scalding water, and then filled my palm with soap and scrubbed. Cleaned my fingernails and felt water hit my face.

But, it wasn't hot. It was just mildly warm. I licked the corner of my mouth, where the water trickled down my cheek, and tasted salt. Odd. I glanced up and caught my faint reflection in the blackened window over the sink. I was crying. What the hell? I blinked away the tears and cleaned the soap and grunge off of my hands and then pulled back up my pants.

I stepped back from my reflection and looked at myself. Pale skin. Pale hair. Pale eyes. Blue eyes, but still painstakingly pale. I had an odd mole near my belly button, and I had killed a man.


I turned from myself and moved back to the living room, a hand scratching behind my head, feeling a bit of wetness. I moved my fingers back in front of me and found blood. Odd. I felt again. Still bloody. This time, though, my fingers caused me pain. "Ow.."

Speaking this time, I wasn't as scared of my somber tone. I crouched, my knees tucked into my nearly flat bosom while I reached across the pool of blood to turn the body over. It was face down. From the clothes, the short hair, and the wide shoulders I realized it was a man. My boyfriend? No. He was too short, and his hair was oddly red. It was dyed, I could see his dark brown roots growing back in.

I turned him over and stepped back with a gasp ripping passed my lips. This man, was someone's friend, brother, or lover. He was dead, and bleeding out all over my living room. I opened my mouth, my voice a weak squeak before I muttered, so softly, that I doubted I could even hear myself,

"Who.. who are you?"

I bit my lower lip and grimaced while covering my face. I gagged and scrambled to my feet and ran to my bathroom. I didn't make it. I started to vomit before I got three feet from the dead man in the middle of my living room. "Holy.. fucking.. shit," I said, cursing more in that sentence than I have in my entire life. Well, not really, but at this moment, it was dramatic.

"How did this happen..?" I thought, holding myself while I cried, trembling.

...

about 24 hours earlier...

I was sitting in class, my leg shaking with excitement while I kept checking the clock above the chalk board. Spring semester was almost over, which meant freedom from college for once in my life. I'd gone straight out of high school into the summer semester, then fall, and finally spring. I was taking the summer semester off, and would be back for the fall to continue my education to become a Psychologist.

The idea of becoming a Psychologist hit me when I met this girl that needed to see a shrink because of her problems. I talked to her, and she said I reminded her of her shrink, but she also threatened to cut off my eyelids and feed them to my parents. What a nice girl, she was.

I looked up from my paper, and felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Yoohoo, Tempie, what's up?"

I rose a brow and shrunk down into a smaller corner of my seat and sighed.

"Yes?" I asked, glancing toward the person who tapped my shoulder.

"I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie at the drive-in tomorrow night?"

"Uh, err.." I was stumped at this point. I had a boyfriend, and I wasn't about to cheat on him with this guy, especially the guy I barely knew. Maybe a double date or something.

"How about you ask Katrina if she'd like to go, hmn? I'm sure she'd agree. You see, Billy, I'm still dating Sterling. We're completely and totally going strong, you know?" I was mentally slapping myself at this point. It was public yesterday that we had almost broken up, but who cares? I did not want to date Billy Charles; he was not my type. Too much of a... goth kid?

"I guess, Temperance, but I'd still rather go with you. Sterling treats you like shit."

"You two; Miss DeViniri, Mr. Charles! Be quiet; others have not completed their test."

I covered my face with my hair, the pale blonde, almost white, covering my features. It was naturally that awkward pale blonde, but people thought I bleached my hair. I just let them assume I did. It made things less awkward; except the people who saw my baby pictures. Sterling being one of them.

"I'm sorry, Billy," I whispered, feigning away from him slightly, his oddly red hair with brown roots catching my eye. The scar on his left cheek also bugged me. Had he been mugged? Or did he get into a fight? Whatever the reason for his scar, I did not like it. And his black fingernails, all black attire, and oddly pointed accessories were a turn off.

Sterling, however, wore clean cut jeans, loafers, button up shirts, and sometimes a tie to add some 'flare' to his outfits. His dirty blonde hair, chiseled face, and not to mention torso, were perfect. Then there was that minor detail; they had been dating since Sophomore Year of High school. He was basically her husband, and he was her first.

"It's whatever, Tempie. Have a great summer," Billy said, reluctantly leaning back into his seat behind and slightly above me.

His words were on queue with the bell, too, which was eerily unusual. I stood up after shoving my notebook into my bag and slid it over my shoulder. Billy was waiting for me at the door when I made my way up the shallow stairs.

"Okay, I know you said no.. but please, Tempie. We could have so much fun."

"William, no. I'm sorry, but no," I said this, shaking my head as I brushed passed him, my limited edition pink, gold, and white Nike running shoes squeaking on the rubber mat in front of the door as I marched away.

I did feel bad, however. I mean, come on now, why should he have to suffer just because of the way he looked? OH wait, there was the fact he cut up in class, barely showed up at all, and when he did, he slept. A waste of an education if you ask me.

I made it to my car, a hand-me-down from my parents. A simple White 2001 Honda Accord. It was a little beaten up, but it was mine, and I couldn't complain. I slid into the driver's seat and dropped my bag in the passenger side. Sterling did not have class today, so he was likely sleeping in.

After turning my key, three times, I slammed my head on the steering wheel and grabbed for my phone. I shot a text to Sterling, but then called him as soon as the message was sent. "Hey, the car's giving me trouble again, please call back," I said this with as much kindness as I could; my words breaking with my stress levels rising. I was seriously not in the mood.

There was a sudden knock on my window and I nearly jumped out of my own skin from the surprising sound. I looked to my left slowly and sighed. Billy. I rolled down my window, it having a nice hand crank, and looked at him.

"Looks like your car won't start?" he asked, chuckling between his words, while taking a look at how frustrated I was.

I wanted to say, "Ya think, jack ass?" but instead I just nodded and leaned my head against my steering wheel. It was only 10:10 AM, and I was basically the only other person in the parking lot right now.

"Well, Tempie, I could probably help ya out, if you want me too, that is," Billy said, his lop-sided, boyishly cute smile flashed my way.

Whoa, hold on Temperance Elaine DeViniri. He is not your type; you have a good boyfriend, at home, in bed. He's been waiting for you all day. He's sleeping right now, so he's probably not going to hear the phone. That's why he hasn't replied to your text messages, or phone calls. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

"I guess, Billy.. but I'm pretty sure my battery is just dead," I said, a bit hesitant while my voice calmed down a bit.

Despite it being William Charles helping me, I was thankful for help.