Running. I was running. I couldn't breathe; I couldn't think. I had to get away. I dropped the knife as I was running, tired of feeling the heavy weight of it - the burden. I can still hear him yelling at me; it shouldn't have happened. I slowed down, halting. I looked at my surroundings. I thought to myself, "how did I end up in the middle of the woods?" I slowly started walking, seeing the deep black pavement in front of me. I cautiouslty took a step on to it, walking to the old town. Silence, its surrounding me. Every street light I passed stared at me, judging me. A few moments later, I arrived at my house. I walked up the old cracked stone steps and unlocked the front door. I stepped in and looked around. I went to my old bathroom and checked behind the curtains and in the closet. Then, I looked in the mirror. My long dark brown was clumpy and streaked with blood. My once white shirt now had dark stains of red on it. I looked down at my jeans, they were muddy and had holes in it front the run. A few minutes later I got into the shower. I was washing my hair when i heard it, heard him. I took a sharp intake of air and yanked the curtains back and looked around. Once I had gotten a good look and realized nobody was there, I let out a breathy laugh. I thought to myself, "he's gone." I smiled to myself, happiness surging through me. Feeling no emotion towards my "crime." I turned the shower off and stepped out. Grabbing fresh clothes and throwing the others in a trash bag. I threw them out and went and got into bed. I layed there in the dark. I haven't slept in days, maybe weeks. My eyes felt light weights. I closed my eyes and smiled. I thought to myself, "He's gone. I can finally sleep."