The wind whistled and whined outside, rattling the shutters in their place. The smell of petrichor had ushered into the cracks and holes hidden in this dark expanse, dulling the taste of a sickeningly dry metallic scent that had previously hung in the air. As the night crept in, I realized that the big glass window was perfectly placed to surround the horror displayed right in front of me. I slumped down to my knees, letting the knife slip out of my sweaty hand.

“No…you can’t be d…de…”

Dead. Dead is the word I was looking for, and yet, I struggled to get the word out…at least not with my mouth. I gulped but found not much saliva to complete the task. The cold breeze forcing its way in had not helped with how dry my throat had become. How long have I been standing here? I truly can’t remember.

The drizzling splats of raindrops on the windowsills shook me out of my mind, and the grim reality came into focus. I cocked my head to the side and looked at the dead man laying on his back. His glazed, lifeless eyes stare at the high ceiling, mouth jarringly open as if in permanent shock. But worst of all, ripped guts splayed out onto the linoleum. The pool of blood encircling his torso seemed to have formed an infinity sign. Both hands covered the now gaping stomach as if the man was gasping and grasping for all the air he could muster.

I closed my eyes and tried to recall what had gone on earlier. Instead, I was greeted with a sharp pain in my right leg and a sudden cool sensation came over this very limb. As I began to place a hand to ease the pain, I almost let out a scream, but quickly cupped my mouth with both hands when I understood the fact that I had not killed this man.

Just then, the sound of footsteps started to come up the old wooden stairs…