What have I done? The soles of my shoes were stained red and started to get onto the bottoms of my feet. My navy denim jeans stayed surprisingly clean but that couldn’t be said about my light pink, nude color shirt that had deep stains across it. My face was pale and I couldn’t help but tremble as the knife made a clang sound as it hit the concrete. What was I going to do? I started to pace around the body, attempting to avoid the pool around it. I could turn myself in but jail time would be served. I could plead insane, but I’m not insane. They can’t listen to what the doctors say, their make-believe minds told me that I should be taking medication every day to stop these impulsive, murderous thoughts, but they are just to take my money, and besides I never liked the taste of grape anyways.
I carefully picked up the knife with the bottom of my shirt and wiped off the handle in attempt to clear myself from getting fingerprinted. I dropped the knife into the blood once again and ran the opposite direction into a decilite alleyway that made a big loop that would lead me right back to my apartment which happened to be across the street, but seeing the risk of being seen was too large for me.
I rushed into my apartment and quickly changed into a pair of clean pajamas. I left the bloody clothes in the bathtub that I had filled with soapy water unconsciously before I left. I added stain remover and called it a day, or night since the sun had gone down as I was getting home. Soon night-self would come out and day-self would get put to rest and the big realization would hit right in the chest as if I was in a continuous boxing match between my personalities.
I’m going to have to start being more careful though, especially if I’m going to stay in this alliance with myself.