Vaya, Lily, and I laughed loudly with our plastic cups in our hand. We had just witnessed a large spill in the living room. Rondo, the host of the party, yelled obnoxiously at the spiller before heading to the paper towels.

It was a Friday night, and we had all gotten drunk. There were solo cups all over the floor, and streamers hung messily from the fireplace. Vaya laughed hysterically and plopped herself on the couch. Lily and her boyfriend, Clint, took shot after shot.

"We wont stop unless the sun goes dowwwwwwn..." Vaya yelled over the blasting music. By now, people were in the back dancing and flailing their arms in the air like the stretchy balloons you see at a car dealership.

Some people were calling their parents to give them a made up excuse of where they were at.

One excuse was that they were at the park, watching a movie with their friends. Another one was that they took a wrong turn and they were still an hour away from home. The others were typical excuses like, "I'm walking the dog!" or, "I’m spending the night at so-and-so's house."

This party was kinda fun though, despite a drunk walking up to you every 5 minutes to ask you if you're single or not. Next to Vaya, I collapsed on the couch and nearly passed out. I've never had so many drinks in my life.

Thats when I heard it. I jumped up, running. A scream came from the kitchen, and people urged back to reveal a spill of blood.

Clint ran home, leaving Lily at the party. Lily couldn't handle blood, but Clint was worse. However, when I looked up at Lily… she was holding a bloody knife in her hand. She turned around to face me, and started to cry.

“I didn’t do it.” She whispered.

“EVERYONE! GO HOME! GO HOME!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, while running out the door. A stampede of people barged out the door, leaving Lily standing there. Again.

“Did Clint see this?!” I screamed at her from outside. “Does he know you’re a killer?!”

Lily stared at me without looking away. Then suddenly, she took a step.

Step. Step. Step.

Closer and closer towards me. I cried and tried to run, but my legs were frozen. I thought this was it…

“It wasn’t me! You have to believe me. We’ve been friends forever! Please. PLEASE!”

I saw Vaya run to the kitchen behind Lily. I don’t know what she was doing, or why she was still in the house, but I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to run!

“Come on, Evie! We’ve been friends ever since I can remembe-“

“DO NOT CALL ME EVIE. ITS EVELYN.” I don’t trust Lily anymore. Who would? She just killed someone!

“What?! You seriously think I murdered an innocent man? What’s wrong with you?!”

“Me?! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!” I screamed. I don’t know what to do. My head is in loop, and I’m so confused. Killing someone doesn’t seem like anything Lily would do.

“I’m your best friend! Please, Evie! Ple-“

Blood.

A knife had gone through Lily, and come back out. Lily fell, revealing Vaya standing behind her, smirking.

Last November 1st, in the trash laden aftermath of my Halloween party, I found a bloodstained knife in the butter. I didn’t think it odd. The party we held the night before had fake-blood chocolate pudding, Jello made to look like brains, and spaghetti sauce without garlic, because we didn’t want to offend any fake vampires.

Pulling out the knife, I saw that the blood had run all through the butter. I threw it out. No reason to keep a ruined bit of butter. I’ll buy more later at the store for breakfast is what I said.

The next morning, November 2nd, I woke up to make toast. I opened the butter, dipped a knife in, and that’s when the butter began to leak red. Bleeding butter? I threw it out and ate cereal. I swore off toast.

My wife woke and watched me eating cereal at the table. “Where’s the butter?” she said.

“I forgot it yesterday. I’ll get some for you at the store today.”

“Remember, the Romanian brand.” She had recently become specific about her butter.

After another night, I woke and grabbed myself Captain Cruncher. My wife came to the kitchen, put in the bread, and took the butter from the fridge.

“You’re having toast.” I said with a blank look.

“Yeah?” she questioned.

I turned back to my sugar cereal and avoided her gaze.

Her toast dinged up, and so she plated it, grabbed a butter knife, and put it in the butter.

I ran over and looked at the butter.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“Didn’t it bleed?” I said.

“What?” She spread the butter on her toast, and walked to the table.

I put toast in the toaster, grabbed a knife, and started skimming butter. It started to bleed. “Why! Why!” I took the butter to her. “Why is there blood in the butter?”

She looked down. “You’re delusional. There’s no blood down there.”

I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Blood covered the butter knife, and blood dripped from the container.

I walked away and back to the bedroom. I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.

I walked back into the kitchen to see her drinking the blood from the container.

“Why are you drinking the blood butter?” I said.

She just looked at me, and smiled with a shark-sharp set of fangs. “I guess the secret’s out. By the way, I don’t eat garlic anymore either.”

Lingering over the last savory bite of the roast, I wiped my mouth as the doorbell rang. Dropping my napkin and reaching for my butcher knife I think, mmmm sounds like dessert.

“Scrub those.”

I stood at the side of the kitchen. Sweat accumulated on my top lip, and the persistent stench of stewed cabbage had started to curl the ends of my hair.

Steam had fogged the skylight windows above. Copper pots on the gas stoves still bubbled, and orange, green and yellow peelings littered the adjacent worktops like scattered leaves. The grand meal in the Great Hall had apparently happened and finished, and my fellow colleagues scattered about like frantic ants, completing their end duties. But the end of the celebration meant more work had to be done. And that meant washing up.

“That's not my job,” I said.

Chef sprung and clawed his fingers into the cotton collar of my shirt, lifting me an inch off the ground. “You're under my employment,” he growled, his breath hot and more bitter than the cabbage. “So do as I say. Or would you like me to request your dismissal from the court?”

“No, Chef, I would not like that.”

“Excellent.” Chef straightened his black toque Blanche. “Now get.”

The big fella left me by the four copper sinks alone like a lemon. Filthy plates, bowls and silver pitchers stacked high. The crockery leaned precariously like that famous tower from that place, and I gently prodded the structure, just to see how much it wobbled.

Quite a bit, it seemed.

Semi-confident the water wouldn't cause blisters and boil the skin from my bones, I began to scrub. Bits of golden sweetcorn and slivers of carrot plopped into the water, and as I washed—thinking thoroughly about my existence—something slimy skimmed my hand.

“Oh, come on, that’s—!” I cried.

“Reyes!” Mary appeared from a cloud of steam. She clutched a stack of plates in her arms and wore a new splodge of foodstuff on the collar of her white shirt. “There you are. Where did you go?”

“Huh?” I swirled my hand in the drink and a spray of soap bubbles splattered the sides.“When?”

“Earlier, lazy snob. I had to carry out your load of platters as well as mine.”

“Oh, sorry. I don’t really remember, but Chef caught me. He's making me wash up. Can you believe that?”

Mary scrunched her nose, lowering her load onto the corner of the sink with a clang. “Well, aren't you a lucky ducky as I have some more. Founds them by the walled garden—your favourite spot. You didn't sneak a snack, did you?” Her cheeks blushed pink, but probably from the heat. “Or meet anyone?”

I shrugged. “There’s no one to meet. Hey, do you want to swap? You wash up, and I'll do whatever you were doing?”

Mary’s lips parted which then turned into a smile, and she elbowed me. “Nice try, but meal’s ended. Everyone’s slightly squiffy and sleepy with big, full bellies. I think the Duke even tried to take a nap behind one of the curtains—quite adorable.”

“Right...” I slid the new additions into the water. Her idea of adorable was most definitely different to mine. Kittens, tiny cacti and snowflakes... I'd die for. But a sweaty, conceited old Duke, not so much.

His daughter, however...

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Mary said. She looked like she wanted to say more, but I didn't press.

I nodded. “Alright.”

“You don't want me to stay?”

I lifted one of Mary’s plates, and a handful of cutlery skidded slightly on its surface. “Only if you do this for me.”

Like Chef, she left me by the sinks, with the remainder of the dishes she'd kindly brought. I reached for the rest, but my hand stopped, hovering over an odd-looking knife. Pinching it by the onyx handle, I lifted it from the plate. A peculiar ruby bead slipped down the knifes golden edge and dropped into the water.

Red swirled, popping the bubbles, and I watched as the apparent blood sank deeper and deeper until all that was left was my shimmering reflection staring back.

“Wait!” I called out. “Mary, where was the meat?”

“We had no meat,” she said. She grabbed a peeled carrot and swung it around by its leafy-green top. “We are celebrating the harvest, doofus. Fruities and veggies only. Do you remember nothing?”

“Fruities and veggies only,” I mumbled, but that meant... The metal slipped from my fingers, drowning in the water. It couldn't be.

The big fella stood by the open pages of his recipe book, his thin nibbed quill a needle in his enormous hands.

“I’m busy, Reyes.” he mumbled.

“Sure. But one question, the menu, was it strictly fruities—” I stopped myself, I couldn't say that.

“Speak.”

“Right. Was it strictly fruits and vegetables? No bloody animals?”

A sharp cuff to my ear brought me back, and I winched as pain throbbed across my cheek. “I asked you to scrub the pots, not that tiny brain of yours. Yes,” he said slowly, loudly, “the harvest equals fruit and vegetables only. No meat. Comprende?”

Heat that had nothing to do with the stove fires burned hot like a blacksmiths iron poker, and I had an abrupt idea of where that bloodied knife would fit best next.

No.

I shook my head—chased away the devils. That wasn't very nice. Chef may have been a cabbage eating slug, but even slugs deserved a life.

“Oh, si,” I said. “Lo entiendo, gran perdedor tonto.”

After a moment, Chef said, “Whatever.” And shoved me away.

So, I thought, and I thought hard. We had no meat. No animal’s blood. And unless it was beetroot—which I found impossible seeing as we had none—we had no other plant-based matter that could create such a stain. But there were mammalian, human ones.

A bell tolled, and heads suddenly looked up, eyes wide and spooked like a tree full of owls. The mournful wail of the bell proceeded its cry throughout the manor, and, deep down, from somewhere inside, I knew something was wrong.

Under the kitchens stone archway, the door whirled open, jittering on its hinges. A boy thundered down the steps, his red tabard askew, his blazing orange curls amok. “Lady Patrice.” he panted. “She's dead. Found by the walled garden. Stabbed!”

A chuckle bubbled, and I clamped my mouth shut, my delirium popping like the suds in the sink. No... I must have misheard, and the bell’s gloomy tones meant nothing. Yeah, yeah, that was it. The bell meant nothing, and the boy hadn’t said she’s dead but... But she's in bed. In bed.

Dead.

Something smashed within the kitchen, a few people screamed, and someone began to weep.

“Dead?” Chef asked, and the boy bobbed his head, slumping against the wall. “Alright, someone grab the boy a drink,” Chef ordered. “And everyone, calm down!”

Mary came from behind, pale as a spectators soul, and I jumped. “Isn’t that who you fancy—fancied—Rey?” She whispered, her elbow brushing mine.

“What! No.” I lied. But my numbed hands and the cord that had tightened around my throat uttered the truth.

I did, and gods, now she was dead. And I couldn't help but think her murder weapon was in the sink with my cursed fingerprints on it.

All the color drained from her face as she stared at the dark crimson liquid. She struggled to recall anybody leaving the table… not even for the toilet. A gasp escaped her lips, for surely this meant there was cadaver, lying lifeless in her house. She raced up the winding staircase and searched frantically. In every corner and crevice she looked, she flinched, expecting to see a corpse. She searched every nook and cranny in her ginormous house, but no body was found. Descending back to the kitchen, she sat there, puzzled. A loud banging erupted from the front door. She turned to get it and faced a full body mirror. And as the blood oozed from the stab wound in her abdomen, Elizabeth Mae realized at last why she couldn’t find the body.

There was no question about it, this knife was bloody. I know blood when I see it being an individual full of the stuff. But this wasn’t my blood, and it was dry, so my question was whose blood was it? It couldn’t have possibly been from a dinner party guest, the blood would have been fresh otherwise. And it wasn’t from the chef, it was vegan night. That’s how I knew it was off. No I fear this was the blood of a human. I scoured the kitchen high and low looking for clues and what I found was that all knives were accounted for. Someone had brought it in.

The next day when everyone was gathered, I questioned the chef and he said he didn’t recognise the knife. So I called every guest and asked who’d been in the kitchen they all said they saw Mrs. Doughbury sneak in. I questioned her and after much interrogation she confessed that herself and the chef had been having an affair. I asked the chef and he admitted to it too. Well that’s all well and good but it didn’t explain the knife. When no one was looking I stole Mrs. Doughbury’s bag and I found dried blood in it. I questioned her and she broke down into tears “whilst chef wasn’t looking I swapped my vegan steak with a meat one, the blood was from a cow” which still didn’t add up because the blood had already been dry when I found it. “I prepared the steak at home the night before and wrapped it up, I didn’t realise I’d dropped my knife in my bag. Whilst I was kissing Frederick (the chef) I realised it was in there, panicked and left it on the side where I forgot about it.” Satisfied I declare this mystery solved.

Finally all the kids are gone and I can finally go to bed. After my little brother birthday party and running around after little kids I was so excited to go to sleep. Hold it right there , my dad stopped me right in front of the stairs. Your better go help your mom clean up , he said I’m an authority figure but I could take hi, seriously because he was wearing a clown costume. In chuckles i said ok and continued laughing on my way to the kitchen. After cleaning up the kitchen , I went to put the utensils in the drawer and found something g I hadn’t expected their was a kitchen knife , i normal knife but what was on it scared me. It was stained with something red . Maybe I am overreacting maybe it’s sauce or something it can’t be blood. I wanted to wash it of but what if theirs a body in my house. My little brother Alex would be terrified and never have a birthday again. My mind was spinning a racing I could think about anything else I was terrified. I started thing about what to do . Should I wash it and forget about it ? Should I call the cops , tell ,my parents? I didn’t know what to i realized that I had my mouth open and was gripping the counter really hard . All of a sudden I decide to go to my room to think about it more and all of a sudden my little brother comes into the kitchen and sees me holding the knife. Sis ?. Umm. Hey what’s up ? Ohh you found the knife , he says looking relived . I look at him with a face even more shocked that before. You know about this , you hurt someone , what did you do , why do recognized this blood stained knife. My brother looked like he was talking to a crazy person , which he probably was. What blood , he said looking confused. I point at the knife and my finger touched the blood . I look at my finger and notice that this doesn’t look like blood. I examine it closer and notice that what I thought was blood was not blood it was . Icing . I wanted to die of embarrassment I was thinking that there was a dead body in my house and it was icing. My brother started laughing and looked like her had watched the best comedy show ever . I felt like an idiot and started laughing with him. I couldn’t believe that my little brother was a murderer . I quickly finished the dishes and continued laughing about my stupidity what a day it was .

“Ok,” the officer says with a deep huff that is some obvious mix of impatient, frustrated and exasperated. He is about 40, white, with short black hair with some stray grays around the temples, black framed glasses and a bit of a beer belly. “Maybe you should just start at the beginning. What were you doing before you say you ‘found’ the knife?” It is clear from his tone that he isn’t going to believe you.

“The party ended around midnight. A few guests had already left and I walked the last ones to the door a little after twelve.”

“Who all was there, and in what order did they leave?”

“Like I told the police when they first showed up,” you say with a touch more emphasis than is necessary, “It was my boss Dr Joe Hansen, his wife Claire, two other nurses Stacey and Marla, Adam who works in the lab and his girlfriend Jen.”

“What about the victim?”

You swallow hard. “He…wasn’t invited.”

“But you knew him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, we all did.”

“You were sleeping with him.”

“No! Not anymore! We broke up months ago!”

“So maybe he wanted you back? Got a little too insistent? If it was self defense you can tell us.” The female officer speaks this time. She is dark skinned, probably mixed race, younger but seems to be the leader of the two. Her hair is pulled back to the base of her neck with a yellow scrunchy and she smells like peanut butter.

“No! I swear I never saw him, never talked to him , didn’t even know he was there until…” your voice fails as you imagine the scene in your mind. The knife, sitting next to the sink like any other knife might be, just waiting to be washed. You almost just toss it in the dishwasher, but hesitate when you saw the dried, red, sticky substance on the blade. What had you served that was that color? Nothing you can remember. It looks almost like blood? No, that is impossible. But then a red smudge on the kitchen floor catches your eye. A shoe print maybe? But all the guests left their shoes outside. Then you see the puddle, oozing out from under the pantry door. You open it and he tumbled out, white as a sheet, blood all over his naked chest, soaking the front of his boxer shorts, all down his bare legs and feet.

“So back to the party,” Glasses pulls you back out of the flashback. “When did the first guests leave?”

“Stacy and Marla left around 11. Stacey was pretty drunk so Marla decided to drive her home.”

“Did they know the victim?” Scrunchy asks.

“Yes. He used to work with us. They…I think at one point Stacey had feelings for him, and I know he dated Marla.”

“Any reason they would have wanted him dead?

All kinds of reasons, you think to yourself, but all you say is “I don’t know, I don’t think so. He was…he slept around a lot. There was always drama. When he left the clinic there were a lot of women who weren’t sad to see him go.”

“And when they left, they went through the kitchen? Did you go with them?”

“Yes, the only door to the apartment is through the kitchen, except for the balcony where the rest of us were still having drinks.”

“Then what happened?”

“Adam and Jen left about fifteen minutes later. They said they needed to get home to let their dog out.”

“Did you walk them out?” Scrunchy is picking at a hangnail now and Glasses is asking the questions and taking notes.

“No, they saw themselves out too.”

“Any reason they would want to hurt the victim?”

“Well…no, he and Adam were friends,” you answer. But that isn’t the whole truth. Adam told you once, just about a week ago, that The Victim once tried to stick his hand down Jen’s shirt when she was drunk. He said if he ever saw him again he would punch his teeth in.

“And Doctor Hansen and his wife stayed another hour? What were the three of you doing?”

Claire was getting her heart broken, you think to yourself. “Just joking around, talking about life, you know.”

“And you walked them to the door?”

“I…yes. Claire went to the bathroom first and Joe was getting an Uber. Then I walked them to the door.”

Actually Claire was crying her eyes out in the bathroom, Joe was telling you that he couldn’t see you anymore, that he needed to save his marriage, and then he left you on the balcony while he got an Uber. You didn’t see them nicely to the door, Joe chased his wife and you chased him and he slammed the door in your face.

“Your fingerprints were the only ones on the knife,” Scrunchy pipes in. “Your shoe was the one with blood on it. And you were alone when you say you found the body. Are you sure, absolutely sure, you don’t want to tell me it was self-defense?”

“I used that knife to cut veggies for the salad, of course my fingerprints were on it. I have no idea how the blood got on my shoe! And I have no idea who killed that bastard but he deserved it!!”

Then. You know.

You knew all along, really.

It is the only thing that makes sense.

Every one of them had a reason to want him dead.

And actually, every one of them had a reason to hate you.

You slept with him after he broke up with Marla and rejected Stacey.

You rejected Adam for him, when Adam told you he was a sleaze bag.

You left him for Joe, true. But Joe was the jealous type. Ironic for a man who regularly cheated on his own wife.

They all killed him, you think to yourself. They did it together, and framed you.

Out loud you say, “I guess I killed him.”

“Excuse me?” Glasses looks up from his notepad. “What was that?”

You are going to prison. There is no way anyone will believe that so many people could cooperate for this kind of crime. All the evidence points to you.

And really, do you deserve anything better?

“I said I guess I killed him.”

“Are you trying to make a confession? Do you want to consult an attorney?” Scrunchy asks.

“Yes, I’ll confess. I want a plea deal. Not an attorney.”

“A plea deal?” Glasses laughs. “Yeah, ok. We’ll talk to the DA. Maybe they’ll give you life instead of the death penalty.”

End.

(Another rushed)

A knife was covered in thick, red blood, and it was dripping, meaning somebody recently got stabbed, slashed and most likely murdered. I then saw blood drops, which led all the way into the basement. I was hesitant to go down but did so anyways. Downstairs, the room was dim and gloomy, and there was a rotting smell. It was as if someone did not shower for an entire year. When I turned on the lights, I saw it. The dead body of my friend.

The dinner is over and although I enjoyed it , I forgot I have to now clean up. I look around and all I can do is shake my head. I go to put the last of the dishes in the sink and that where I saw it under another dish. A bloody knife. At first I didn’t even know what I was looking at. You know how you see something but trying to convince yourself it’s not what it looks like.That was me standing there looking and not wanting to touch it. It’s looked like dried blood so I know it was blood and not the sauce I used for the food. I wonder how long was it in there and why was it in there.

I put the dishes i had in my hand in the sink and got my brown towel out of the drawer and pick up the knife. I folded it up in the towel for later. After cleaning the kitchen. I called my husband to ask him about the knife.

A few days ago

“Baby , you have to work late again that’s every night this week”.Every night at midnight, he gets up to leave for work. “You ask me this every time I get up to leave” “I’m just saying it’s getting dangerous out with all these women getting killed and missing I get afraid to stay here all night by myself” He kisses my forehead and look me in the eyes and tell me I will be alright.

That didn’t help at all.I lay back down and go to sleep. I wake up it’s morning and there he is sleeping right next to me. Like clockwork I turn on the news and the first story on the news is a woman going missing and they found blood in her apartment. “This is so crazy”I whispered “Good morning my husband kisses me” “Good morning how was work” “It was good , did you sleep well” “Yes but I missed you” “I missed you too”

Thinking about a few a days ago…could it be his? “ Honey, can you come here a minute? Ken comes in the kitchen “Yes, honey” Umm, I found something and I was wondering where it came from? I turn around and open the towel and pick up the knife with the towel of course.I turn around and he looks at the knife and start shaking his head. “You just couldn’t wash it and put it away. How can you be so stupid” I looked at him surprised. I didn’t even recognize my husband anymore. He comes towards me and grabs my arm. “Give me the knife” My hand and arm gets week and I drop the knife. While he bends down to pick it up I turn to run.I don’t know where I was going but I wanted to get away from him. I run to the front and just as I opened it he came up from behind me and closed the door “Where do you think your going ?” “Get off of me” I still don’t understand why he’s acting like this. I pulled away from him and run to the phone. I grab the phone and say to him “If you come closer I will call 911” He starts laughing and say “just like all those women did right before I killed them” “Oh my god ,you?” “Yes ,me they were weak women who couldn’t mind their business so I had to shut them up just like I am going to do to you.” I looked quick while he charged at me and I grabbed the vase off of the dresser and hit him with it. It knocked him out so I immediately called 911 and went outside to wait for them.

The cops came and I tell them what happened and that he’s inside. They go inside and come out and says “Ma’am , there’s no one inside”. I looked at him and said “Yes, yes he’s on the living room floor” Ok they go back inside but before he does he’s stopped by another officer He comes over to me and tells me “ma’am ,there’s no one in there” I looked at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean?” I pushed past them to go where I knew I left him and he’s gone. I gasped and started looking for him.”This can’t be ,he has to be here.” “It’s ok, we will find him.”