To Kill

May 26, 2009
By Anonymous

Red is just a color right. The dagger was still in my hand. This is the first time I killed someone. Blood was everywhere I could feel the cold liquid seeping through my shirt. I shouldn’t be scared I was supposed to do this, she deserved it. My hand was trembling squeezing the knife. I did it quick it didn’t hurt her. There was a hole in her dress where a fountain of blood was spurting out; it was all over the floor. All I have to do now is walk away no one will know. Her hair was still in tact. I just have to put the dagger in her hand and walk away. The decorative lacy dress covered her body in a veil of black. Walk away, just leave, why can’t I move? She was sprawled across the stairs her body wilted and twisted. That’s right just put it in her hand. Her small fingers were cold dead, the small white glove covering her hand was now stained red. She deserved it. The rosy blush that once flourished her cheeks was now gone lifeless, left in a shadow of pale white.

I looked down at my hands wiping the blood away. Trying to wipe the blood away. Crying. Red is just a color right. But it wouldn’t come off.

The author's comments:
I wrote this not to appear like a freak who wants to kill someone. But I wrote it kind of too put myself in an assasins position so to speak. I was curious how like how a spy or cia agent might feel when theyre assigned to kill. Is it scary? Do you get a sudden adrenaline rush? Do you feel ashamed or as if you have commited a sin? I merely wanted to put myself in the place of the person still standing.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Jun. 24 2009 at 4:11 pm
djh.1997 BRONZE, Two Rivers, Wisconsin
1 article 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
Men would kill for a hill.
They do not know.

i like how you described the scene

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