Panting, Brian finally arrived back at his own home. He took in deep breaths of air to replenish his body after the short dash from the payphone. He had just felt the overwhelming urge to run. To run and to escape. The dark street was beginning to spin about him more and more and his stomach was writhing about in his abdomen with cold sickness.
At this time of night, the roads were mainly empty but Brian had seen several people on his way back and had shied away from every one of them in case they spotted the blood upon his jacket. There was nothing more suspicious than a blood covered fugitive.
He stared up the steps at his front door and saw that it was swinging open in the light wind, creaking slightly as it did. It seemed to be beckoning back inside and to gaze upon the hell he had created for himself.
He did not want to go back in there. The body would still be there staring at him hatefully with those unseeing eyes. Blood would still cover the floor and he would still not wake up from this nightmare that had trapped him with it's malevolent claws.
He had no choice though. There was only one thing he could do and that was to run away. Run away and hide where nobody could find him. If he hid, then he would never have to face the hatred that his friends would surely submit him to once they discovered the true nature of his heart.
His hands trembled and he could feel the dampness of his palms as the sweat spewed forth from his pores. He placed a foot forward and began to ascend the steps that led to his home.
He froze and gasped as the door swung idly in the wind, flashing him a view of the blood upon his carpet. His breathing began to deepen into long, unhealthy gasps and a whimper came up in his throat as well as sickness which he was forced to swallow.
He curled his fingers into fists and stared at the door. His eyes flickered closed for a moment and then he sprung forward into his house.
The body was gone.
The carpet had soaked most of the blood puddles up leaving gory stains upon the surface. Splatters of blood still dabbed the walls, but the body was gone.
He stared about the hallway. His eyes slowly took in the sight of the blood, but there was definitely no body.
'What if someone knew?'
What if someone had found it and taken it away? What if the police had been called? His body trembled at the thought. He could go to jail and be locked up with all of the other murderers. For a second he imagined what it would be like to be locked behind bars like an animal in a zoo… never seeing your friends and never living your life.
He inched his way across the floor and peered into the lounge room in case anybody was waiting for him. Waiting to accuse him of what he had done.
But the house was empty. There was nobody waiting for him and the man had gone. Was it possible that he had still been alive when Brian left? But his eyes had been so… dead.
He sat by himself on the stairs, folding his arms tight across his chest and ignoring the way the sticky blood covered his fingers. He rocked himself and his glazed eyes stared fixedly ahead of him.
'Have you ever told a bad lie?
Have you ever made someone cry?' Have you ever killed another?
Brian jumped and gave a startled yelp at the sudden sound and his eyes stared fearfully at the phone as if it were some murderous animal coming towards him.
Murderous. Like himself.
He curled himself up into a smaller ball and his body shook with each ring until there was a click as his answering machine began to play it's autonomous message.
"Hi, sorry I'm out right now but if you want me to call you back leave me a message!" the cheerful voice announced. "Byeee!"
"Brian? What the hell is going on? If you're there, pick up the phone! Brian? Brian! Right, I'm coming down right away," Kevin's voice said.
Brian's eyes widened in horror. Kevin coming down? That meant he would know! He stared about his ruined hallway, now soiled with blood.
Brian suddenly stumbled towards the phone and his bloody fingers struggled to snatch up the receiver. Kevin could not come here!
"Kevin?" he gasped.
"I - I - I I'm fine," Brian finally spluttered. "R - really, n - no problems."
"You sound like hell! What's wrong?"
Brian's eyes drifted down to his blood covered hands which were fast leaving their red marks upon the phone and the wall. He let out a strangled cry and dropped the phone as he rushed to get away from it.
He ran to the kitchen and threw his hands in the sink, desperate to cleanse his hands from their filthy deed. He fumbled with the faucet until a cold stream of water flowed down onto his trembling hands and he watched the watery red liquid swirl away into oblivion down the plug. If only he could wash everything else away so easily.
Sobbing, he sunk to the floor and turned his back upon the hallway. He had wanted the body to just vanish and disappear from his life, but now that his wish had been granted it left a sick, uneasiness within him.
Someone knew what he had done and they had taken the body away. That man had been dead, devoid of life. How could he just disappear?
His head throbbed and his vision had almost completely fogged over and everything was like a red blur of blood. He felt weak and faint as his body became heavier each second. He touched his arm for a moment and felt the sticky blood that still leaked joyfully from his arm. He wondered vaguely how much blood he had lost.
Maybe he would die and then the guilt and the fear would end as he sunk into dark unconsciousness.