kill for the drabble masterlist meme
source: drabble masterliststatus: accepting⼠ Iâll write a angst drabble of my character violently killing yours.
She had spaced out for a good few minutes, if she were to guess sheâd have to say a total of four minutes, the ticking of the clock telling her time was still going steady as usual. It didnât stop for everyone else as it did for her in those four minutes. Reality had reeled her right back in, and when she opened her eyes, Jiwon didnât realize she wasnât at home at first. It was someoneâs home, alright, it just wasnât hers. Her fingers felt somewhat sticky, warm, not necessarily the most pleasant feeling out there, but it wasnât bothering her. Opening and closing them, she dropped the item she held firmly, a simple kitchen knife. She had gripped the handle so tightly, it left red marks on her hands.Or maybe the color came from something else. Wait. Kitchen knife?
Looking down, it wasnât difficult to see what exactly was going on. But it wasnât a situation sheâd ever see herself in. Sheâd done questionable things in the past, but she never wanted to hurt anyone. Definitely not to this extent. Her hands were red because they were covered in blood. So were her clothes. The knife she had held so tight had been stuck in his chest multiple times, she could tell. It was as if her mind had been turned off the moment she grabbed the knife. Right now, however, it wasnât time that was frozen. She was in shock, shivering and shaking, the tears running down her cheeks felt hot, they burned. Pushing herself away from the dead body and the pool of blood, she hit her back against the wall, pulled her hands through her hair, refusing to even look at it. This wasnât ever going to leave her mind.
The kitchen knife had been calling out to her, she could swear it was. The urge to grab it and dig it deep in his skin grew with every word and every passing second. Why? She had no clue. At one point, something inside her snapped, and as she got closer to the knife, she grabbed it, pointing it at the other, telling him to âshut the fuck upâ because she was âgoing to do it anywayâ. No words of reason, no angry sentences, sheâd listen to nothing. It happened within seconds, but felt incredibly satisfying. Like the knife belonged right there, in that spot. That blood was seeping out didnât bother her, nor did his sounds of pain do her anything at all. As if she had turned into a completely different person, and instead of the caring and kind woman sheâd been, she had turned into a murderous lady who wanted to see nothing but blood. Seven, eight, nine. She just kept going. Almost laughing. It just felt so good.
