Venin

Blood dripped from the recently sharped knife in his shaky hand; there was no turning back now. Her velvet blonde hair was loosely spreaded across the hard wooden floor, dirt and dry blood now covering it.

‘She had it coming... You know she needed to be warned.’ There was a faint but firm voice constantly bothering him, keeping him awake, controlling his every move and breath as if he was nothing but a puppet; then again, hadn’t he been one through all his life?

The male’s hands were shaking uncontrollably as his eyes scanned the entire living room, which was once lit with the sunshine and carefully decorated with the finest furniture and paintings from artists that soon enough became of a huge matter. The knife’s black handle was released from his loose grip; falling next to the young girl’s body, panic now coming to his mind.

“Viola?” He tried to call, unsure if that was in fact the girl’s name. There was no sign of life coming from the female’s body, her skin slowly turning pale, as her blood no longer ran through her veins. “Viola!”

There he stood, watching the life come out of her body, her soul slowly fade away with the wind that came from one of the cracked windows in the huge room. No one was around, silence and all its friends being the soundtrack to the crime that had occurred.

‘It’s over now. I win.’

Sighing heavily, he understood for the first time in almost forty years of existence. This had never been a battle; because he could never win.