Chapter One
Greg's knees were right next to Sara's legs. He was hovering above her, and he squeezed the handle of the kitchen knife he found on her knife rack. He brought the knife above his head, breathing heavily as he did so. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but fuck, he wanted to so bad. Sara had always ignored him, laughed at him, called him immature, at least he thought so. Greg threw his arms down, his cold knife stabbing her torso. Her screams pierced the air and shattered Greg's eardrums, and that's when he put his hand over her mouth. He slammed the blade into her legs, chest, arms, neck, whatever Sara threw at him to block him from doing it. He usually took his anger out stray cats or dogs, but this? It felt godly. Greg loved the way her screams were muffled, how her blood flew all over her walls and bed, and how she fought back. She actually fucked Greg up quite a bit, if you'd consider bruises and scratches as something.
'Greg please,' she tried to reason, but he wasn't near through, but of course, its Sara. After what felt like seconds to Greg, she went limp, and her screams lessened.
She was dead, and Greg's mind was clearing.
Greg didn't stop stabbing her, and the only thing that would've stopped him was if he snapped back to reality. He was crazy, sure, but he never actually cold-bloodedly killed someone, especially a co-worker. But at the same time, he wanted to do it... again.
That's when something snapped, the kitchen knife's tip was shattered and Greg just stooped and looked up at the ceiling, it was blue just like his mood had been lately. 'Sara is dead, and I've killed her'. His vision became blurry, and he wanted to suppress the maniacal laughter that was bubbling in his throat, he'd become so used to bottling emotions, he didn't know what to do anymore. A strangled laugh escaped his dry mouth, with the realization that he didn't know what to do.
A/N: I don't really write stories like this, but I wanted to get this out of my system. Should I continue this story? If so please comment.