Chapter 2: Aftermath

I blinked repeatedly at first, unsure of what the hell I was seeing.

I was in complete disbelief as I stared at the kitchen around me. The walls were all splattered with blood. The floor as well. The counter. Everywhere had some blood on it. It wasn't just blood. It was blood and...particles. Soft material. I looked at my hands and it was covered in the same thing. I stepped back until my back hit the sink.

Garrett and Samantha. Where did they go?

My body reacted before I could accept the impossibility that just happened. I threw my guts up in the sink. It felt like my stomach was being torn apart. I had never felt this sick before. I wiped my mouth after I was done but realized far too late that my hand was covered in that red stickiness and I had got it in my mouth. I could taste it in my lips.

I retched again. Not much came up and my stomach hurt by the time I was done. I crumbled to the ground and hugged my knees. I gave myself a few minutes. Just a few. I didn't focus on the blood around me or ask where the hell Garrett and Samantha went. I just...stopped thinking.

It didn't take long for the panic to hit me with full force, driving me to my feet. I looked around the bloodied kitchen and couldn't even scream. That was how much I was panicking. I moved around the counter, heading to the exit. The puddles of material that were where they stood was enough proof that something had happened to them. Something out of this world and bizarre.

Something straight out of a nightmare.

I kept walking and slipped a little on the blood but recovered my footing. I didn't look back. I couldn't. My body wasn't shaking with nerves anymore. It was a weird vibration I felt. Like humming deep in my bones.

When I reached the foot of the stairs, I paused for a few beats. I asked myself what it was I intended to do now that I had somewhat accepted what happened. I said 'somewhat' because although I acknowledged the fact that both Garrett and Samantha turned to mush, I didn't know why that happened. How could two people just—

No. I wouldn't think about it.

I started up the stairs and only one thing was on my mind: getting those keys. I knew Garrett always kept them by the bedside table. I needed to get out of this house or I'd lose my mind.

I was already starting to.

I slipped when I reached the top of the stairs. Looking back, I realized how I left bloody footprints the whole way up here. I made a sound at the back of my throat and backed away from it. My back hit the wall and I forced myself to breathe. It was harder when I thought back to the bloody mess in the kitchen. If I could just make myself forget, then everything would be well.

"You've got this," I whispered to myself before continuing.

I reached the bedroom. It reeked of sex but the smell wasn't as bad as the smell downstairs, which was a weird thing to think about so I left it at that. I saw the keys from a distance and went straight for them. The bedside table topped over and I went crashing down along with it.

My hands shook as I got slowly up to my feet. I felt the scrape from the edge of the table but it barely hurt. It was only a sting.

The keys were in my hand. They were ice-cold. I looked around the room and saw Samantha's clothes littered around the room. Clothes she would never again be able to use. I felt sick to my stomach suddenly. I covered my mouth with my hand and then rushed to the bathroom. I couldn't reach the toilet on time and ended up throwing up right on the bathroom floor. Not much came out, thankfully. It was mostly foam. And emotions.

I reached dryly until tears trailed down my face. I was on all fours in the bathroom floor, a bathroom I had used this morning just before leaving to work. I looked up and saw my shampoo in the shower. My toothbrush near the sink. My comb. My hairbrush. Everything I owned was right here. This was my home.

I looked at the keys in my hand. Where was I supposed to go?

I cried for what felt like an eternity. My eyes were heavy with tears and the more I thought about it, the harder I cried. My life was over. What the hell was I supposed to do now? My fiancé and his stepsister, those cheating assholes, had been ground to tiny pieces in the kitchen. They were all over the walls and floor. I even had some of them on me.

It was then that I looked at my body and saw the mess.

I was covered in blood.

I stood up. My knees wobbled. I neared the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was covered in blood and...matter. I opened the tap and scrubbed my face with scalding water. I washed until I couldn't feel my face anymore and the water got too hot. When I looked back at my reflection, my face was red yet clean, but the shit was everywhere. In my hair. On my clothes.

I could even taste it in the back of my throat.

I took my coat off and left it right there on the bathroom floor. I changed my sweater in the bathroom and then tried to wash my hair right in the sink. I didn't want to use the shower. I didn't have time. I realized that I needed to leave. I didn't know where I was going but I knew staying here wasn't an option. What the hell would I tell people when they came knocking on the door?

It was better to leave and never come back.

I was satisfied with the way I looked. I picked the keys up from the floor and went back into the room. Garrett's wallet was still in his jeans which were lying on the floor. I took the wad of cash and pocketed it, feeling like a thief. I then took all the money I had in my savings—which amounted to four hundred dollars—and left. Plus Garrett's money, it'd be enough.

For a while.

The money I had would help me find a place to stay for the night. In the morning, I didn't know what would happen. Mr Abbott, Garrett's father, would undoubtedly come looking for him. I didn't know how long that would take but I couldn't think about that.

I just had to get out.

I walked out the room. I had to admit that as I walked down the stairs, I was hoping that I'd find them alive in the kitchen. I was hoping that what happened was a mere psychotic episode of mine, maybe because of the shock of seeing them together. A hallucination. Maybe it was something I envisioned vividly and they'd be standing in the kitchen when I reached the bottom of the stairs, laughing about how crazy I looked. I'd be glad to see those fuckers alive, even if they were having sex behind my back.

But the kitchen was still painted red, and those little piles where they stood were getting smaller as the blood ran.

It wasn't a hallucination.

It was all very much real.

I unlocked the door. It wasn't easy because that little piece of the broken key was inside the lock. After much struggling, I got it open. I reached outside and took a deep breath of fresh air. It didn't smell metallic. It was clean.

I started walking. I only had a few blocks until I reached the station. I'd take the train to...I didn't know. Somewhere. And then I'd find a hotel somewhere and then wake up somewhere. Eat something in that somewhere. And then I was on God's good humor.

For now, my focus was something else.

I kept my head low as I walked for fear of being recognized by someone. I didn't know a lot of people but you never knew. I descended the stairs to the bottom, where a train was waiting. I took this train every single day to town, where I'd sometimes just walk around to get out of the house, or go to the mall to do shopping. Waste Garrett’s money. That was what Samantha said.

My step faltered. Thinking about them was going to make me lose my shit and cry. I reached the bottom of the stairs and kept walking. There was a small group of people waiting for the train to arrive. I lingered behind the group, keeping my head low.

When the train arrived, the doors opened and everyone filed inside. I did the same, trying to seem as ordinary as possible. Like I was going to meet a friend or maybe even my boyfriend. Maybe I was a nurse going to my night shift. Something. Anything but the truth.

I stole my dead boyfriend’s money and was now running. To make matters worse, I didn’t even know how he died. He just exploded. I didn’t even see it happening because my eyes were closed.

But there was a tugging at the back of my mind. A tiny voice that told me I knew exactly what happened. I had been responsible. I had been the one who killed them. I felt that massive wave of power or energy that closely resembled anger and I wished for their deaths. I wanted them to disappear from the face of the earth. And when I opened my eyes, it had happened.

I gulped as I made my way inside the train.

I found an empty seat and sat down. My eyes were on my lap and I held onto my bag so I could have something to grab. My heart was pounding. I dared a glance at everyone’s faces. Nobody was looking at me, which was a relief. Nobody knew they were seated next to a cold-blooded killer. A murderer. A—

“That’s what you are,” I heard someone say.

I looked up and saw a man standing before me. He was holding onto the railing instead of sitting down. There were so many empty seats. Why didn’t he sit down? But that wasn’t my main concern.

What did he say?

I stared up at his face. His eyes were on mine before he looked away, but not before flashing me a full-of-shit smile. His eyes then trailed down, from my face all the way down to my shoes.

My boots that were stained with blood and matter.

They were black, but anyone would look at them and find them odd. What the hell was on them? they’d wonder. Not him. Instead of looking at them with a puzzled look, he looked back at my face and almost nodded at me knowingly.

I looked away but my face was up in flames.

Who the hell was this guy?