Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Blood on My Hands


In the dark woods behind the baseball dugout, I'm kneeling next to Katherine's body, my emotions reeling crazily at the sight on the ground before me. Katherine is lying on her side, curled up, as if she was cowering from whoever attacked her. Her body is still warm, but there's no pulse. And that means she's dead. Dead! I can't believe this is happening, that I've just touched a dead person, someone I know, someone my own age.

Someone... who's just been murdered.

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