A scream echoed throughout the night.
The thud of a body hitting the floor. With no sound of the weapon, I could tell that they died with a swipe of the knife.
Two more screams, and two more gunshots. It was so quiet after the shots and the swipe of the knife, you could almost hear the spirits leaving the bodies. Footsteps picking up pace.
I moved with the shadows, trying to conceal my identity, I try to make my footsteps sound like nothing as creeping along the dark hallway. Checking behind my back, making sure that no one was following me. Having a gun in front of me, just in case. No, I didn’t shoot the innocent people. I found the gun from a dead body, surrounded in a pool of blood. Laying in the palm of his hand, and whoever killed him didn’t think about taking the gun.
No, I didn’t want to steal a gun from a rotting corpse. But I needed something to protect me from my deathbed. Anyhow, I had to keep up my pace. I learned, if you use that one second on collecting your thoughts, you could have been using that time to keep yourself from being dead.
If you kill the killer there are still the same amount of killers in the world.