He kissed you slowly, and the feeling of love drowned your senses. A hug. A kiss. And you went further on.

You walk home, feeling amazing, beautiful, wonderful and every other feeling of happiness and love. The sky seems full of joy and the blue is blinding. The clouds have mixed shapes and sizes, each much more different than the other.

You enter your room and sit at the warmest corner in your room and smile at the thoughts of that special someone. Then your eyes blacken out.

Death. Hate. Depression. Bitterness. Sorrow. Murder.

You shake your head at the thoughts and push try to push them out. A feeling of emptiness fills your inner soul. You grab the knife under your bed from when you were eating watermelon and stick it in your back pocket.

A strong urge fills you. You can’t control it. You walk out your door and towards the person you love.

He is texting his friend about how much he loves you. You lift the knife into the air and try to hold back. You fingers cringe, trying to press the knife against his neck.

You feel the guilt slipping through your ears and cool off your neck. You let out a quiet sigh and smile. You are glad that you didn’t kill. You slowly lose grip of the knife and it slips out of your fingers, landing on his shoulder and gracefully gliding down his arm. A long scar scrapes his arm and the knife is stuck at the very end.

He falls down to the floor and looks around wildly to find the person in charge. His eyes fill with tears and disappoint when he sees that you are the cause of this. A twisted frown of hatred fills his expression.

You begin to cry and find a way to apologize for the harm just caused.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper and cry a lot more.

He gives a glare.

“How could you?” He slowly stutters.

“I didn’t mean to. I don’t know.” You whisper.

His eyes begin to blink quickly, showing he would be gone any second.

You run to his side and kiss his lifeless lips.

“I’m sorry. I love you.” You say slyly and step away from the body.