I gripped the sharp knife as the crimson liquid dripped from it. I knelt on the floor, with tears streaming down my face. My heart sank as I watched the man I loved lying on the floor. I crave to touch him, but I can't. I wished to kiss him, but disgust deepened. I despise him, but I loathe myself further.
I picked up the phone that rested on top of the drawer. Even though my hands are trembling, I even contend with dialing the ambulance station number. On the first ring, they answered the call.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"Go to 2187 NYC Urban Calm, High town C. O Clark."
I at once turned off the call and went to the second floor. Even with a bloodstain on my hand, I just kept packing. As soon as I'm done, I washed my hands and rushed out of the house.
I sprinted to the primary gate and hailed a taxi. Before entering, I peered repeatedly at the mansion that has been a significant part of my soul, stuffed me with fantasies, and made me feel I was not alone again.
But in just one paper I discovered and a photo I saw, it all collapsed. It was as if a serpent had wound me and was late to treat because it was deliberately poisoning me.
I just sobbed in the taxi. I looked again at the house I had stepped on before eventually determining to neglect everything.
"I'll start again... but this moment, without you."