(Warning: mention of murder and suicide)

“SAMANTHA!”

The words slipped out of my mouth before her other foot even left the platform. Unfortunately, my words are quicker than my actions. I reached out to try and grab her hand in an attempt to save her but it was futile. Samantha had fallen 15 stories down to her demise, and it was all my fault.

I stood at the shattered window. Eyes wide in shock. What the fuck just happened? The room was silent, except for the sound of heavy uncontrollable breathing. My breathing. I need to calm down before I end up knocking myself out. I looked down at the axe that I hadn't realized I dropped directly onto my foot. The stinging pain started seeping in, but I don't think it was from the bleeding.

I took off my bloody shoe to take a look at how deep the cut was. It wasn't too deep. I looked at the blood on my axe, the blood that was supposed to be Samantha’s. I was going to kill her. I was fucking trying to kill her. My hand reached up to slap myself around the face. Once, twice, I don't know how many times I do it. Murderer. Did she jump out of the window or did I push her? It didn't matter, it was my fault either way. Samantha wanted to live, she told me multiple times while I spent my precious time chasing her up here, dragging my axe with me. Jumped or not? I was convicted and nothing but a sick, psychotic murderer.

I need to get out of here. I'm not going to prison for this. She jumped. She killed herself. I had no part in it, if you think about it I tried to save her. I'm not a killer, I'm a victim. Alright maybe I'm not so innocent, but that doesn't mean I can't make it look that way. Acting fast, I grabbed piece of paper and a pen and start writing.

‘I couldn't take the pain anymore, it was too much. I'm sorry -Sam.”

I placed the note on the desk and put the pen on top so it wouldn't blow away. Now I just had to wrap up my foot and clean up the blood around it so the police wouldn't test it for DNA.

FUCK THE AXE! What was I going to do about the axe? I didn't think this through. The clock was ticking, however, it wasn't under my control this time. I would clean off the blood and place it by the window hoping for the best. The police will hopefully think she broke the window with the axe.

Everything was cleaned down. Believable. It was time to move. And quick. I looked out the window and onto the pavement. There she lay, half bloody, half smashed into the concrete tiles. She was a far way down but I could still notice her wide, motionless eyes staring back up at me- more in my direction. I couldn't tell if I should be feeling guilt or relief that she was properly dead. This was what I wanted. Right?

It was time to make a move, there was just one problem. The door was locked and I had no access. Kind of my fault… I picked up the axe and headed towards the door. Like earlier, I swung it at the verification keypad. But in the hope that it would fully break this time. I smashed it a couple of times until I heard the glitching:

*AC-CESS. .D-EN-I-*

The door automatically swung open. I quickly placed the axe back where it was. Trying to steady my nerves, I took a deep breath and headed for the door at the end of the corridor that led to the stairway. The sound of sirens and screams in the distance got closer. They found her. I took the back exit that I chased her through and quickly got into my car, not looking back.

I slipped into bed and closed my eyes. Maybe I could sleep everything off like it was a dream. It helped me last time.

“Hello, Ash.” I shot up from my pillow. Samantha stood among the crowd and blended in with the rest of them who corrupted and haunted my deranged mind.

“You- you’re not real…” I stuttered. God get a grip, “I've seen this many times before-”

Mother barged into the room in a frantic hurry, “Ashton where the hell have you been I've been looking everywhere for you!”

“Quiet, please. They have visited.” I responded, keeping in eye contact with Samantha.

Mother walked over to my bedside table and opened the drawer quickly taking out a pot of medication. “Who? Who has visited Ash!”

“The prey… It's always the prey…”

”When did you last take your pills?” She asked, counting the tablets one by one.

The pills made me feel numb, I preferred to have control of my mind, “I TOLD YOU TIME AND TIME AGAIN! I don't need them fucking pills!” I yelled, snatching the pot and throwing it against the wall. The individual capsules fell out and trickled onto the floor like marbles.

”Ash, what did you get up to today?”

“Why don't you turn on the local news for once?” I answered. To this she hurried over to the remote lying on my bedroom floor and switched on the news, her hand trembling.

“You- you didn't. You couldn't. Not again.” Mother looked like she was about to throw up. Who could blame her? The images looked quite graphic.

“She was disrespectful. She had it coming.”

The thing about murder is you don't know how many people get away with it. There could be a lot of monsters wandering free in the world and nobody would know about it because they’re good enough at covering their tracks.

“She was prey.”