Oh, Mother, I have killed him!
I'm a murderer!
I stumbled to the floor next to Theodore, my chest heaving up and down. My mind chilled at the violence I caused.
There was no excitement. Not anymore. No glee or craziness. Just a chill, an inhumane chill feeling bobbled up in my chest.
Just a look at the body reminded me of how I had killed him. I did it with my own hand. I did it with. . . Oh god!
I groaned on my four limbs, trying the breathing exercise to calm myself, but no matter how much effort I put into it, it lost in my frantic wheezing.
'I need to get out of here,' I screamed inwardly. I couldn't watch the dead Oldman anymore.
Getting off on my feet, I wanted nothing but to shoot out of the sealed door, but . . . That's not really the right move to take at this moment.
Curse my common sense, but I probably wouldn't last even a couple of hours if I left right now, leaving everything exactly as it was.
