Guilt
There was nothing but darkness. A blank black void that surrounded everything. Yet he could feel the solid wall that enclosed around and the cool stone floor. When he reach out to touch the walls, he could feel something moist and sticky. Her raised his hand to his face, it reeked of death with a metalic overtone.
A dim light illuminated the room in a errier flickering glow. When he looked down at his hands he saw the deep crimson that stained them. He tried to wipe the horrible stain off on his cloths, but it refused to leave.
In the center of the room was a white porcaline tube. It almost seemed out of place surrounded by the filthy, rusted walls. Almost blinding the way the light reflected off its pristine surface. He walked over to it and placed one his crimson dyed hands under the facet as he turned the water on. He vigorously rubbed his hands together trying to get off every drop of blood.
When he removed his hands from the flow, he was teriffied to see that none of the blood was gone. He tried again but, again none of the deep crimson liquid left. In fact more seemed to stick to his skin. His heart pounded as he looked down into the basin. It was not clear water that flowed from the facet, but a torrent of crimson dye, filling the pristine white with horrid red.
He quickly grabbed the tap and shut it off. Despite the fact that it no longer flowed through the pipe, blood continued to fill the tube until it was full to the brim. He should have ran or moved away, but he was frozen staring into the deep crimson, so dark it was almost black.
The smooth dark surface reflected the entire darkened room like an obsidian mirror. It seemed to call to him with strange unheard whispers, beconing him to break its mirrored surface. He reached one hand out to quickly dip the tip of his middle finger in the center, causing the surface to ripple. Nothing happened for a moment.
As he began to pull his hand away from the pool of blood, something broke the surface from benieth. It wrapped around his wrist and gripped it tightly, never faultering no matter how hard he tried to break it. He stared in disbelief at the hand gripping him, rivers of deep red flowing down its pale skin back into the pool. Hanging off its bony fingers was a stained silver chain. Strung on the chain was a silver ring, embeded with a family crest that was far too familar and a couple of flat metal rectangles engraved with a name. Shepherd, Adam.
Something stirred under the surface, causing his heart to beat faster. He swore it was about to tear itself from his chest. A head of brown locks, weighed down by the blood that tinted it a dark aurburn. Beneith it a pair of honey colored eyes, the same as his mothers, stared up at him. They were dull and hollow with no life, no light, no soul reflected in them. The face was pale tinted with grey and faint blue tones of a drowing victum.
"A-Alex?" He stuttered in a soft tone of disbelife.
The corpse opened it pale blue lips and replied in a faint rasping voice. "Murder." Adam's muscles stiffened. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he was pulled under the surface of the dark crimsom pool. It was not a shallow bath tube, but an endless abess without a surface or even a bottom. And he was being dragged its depths by his own son.
Adam kicked and thrashed and screamed, but it only sucesseded in stealing the breath from his lungs. He was drowning, dying in the dark abess that had already claimed his soul long ago.
Adam screamed as he woke, thrashing in the bed. It took a minute for him to comprehend just where he was. His heart returned to a normal rythem as he realized where. Not the dark abess that he was to drown in, but his bed in his house. His big empty bed, in his large empty house.