She sat on
the edge of the bed, looking back at the body of the man she had just killed.
Her face showed no emotion as she sat there staring blankly at his body. Why
did he do that to her? How could he continuously do this to her? The questions
danced around in her head. Tracey closed her eyes and tried to push the images
out of her mind. If only for a second she could have peace, that was all she
asked, that was all she wanted and that was all she needed. Peace and quiet just
for a short while, maybe a minute or even a brief fraction of a second, just to
escape the trauma she had experienced.
This
privilege Tracey would not experience, she could hear the police cars’ sirens
getting closer and closer as they neared her home, the neighbors lights were
on, they had reported the screaming once again, as they had done so many times
before. She knew that it would only be a
short while before the police would come barging through her door. But this
time it would be different, this would be there last visit to 139 West Street!
Tracey
dropped the blood stained knife on the floor. She walked down the stairway and
out onto the pavement and waited for the police to arrive.
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