It's Not What It Looks Like

She ran. Ran and ran and ran. It was dark and cold. Rain splattering everywhere. Wind enclosed around her. But she kept on running. Until she got to a house. She stopped abruptly, breathing heavily. Her clothes were plastered to her with the heavy rain. She shuddered and tried to push the door open. It was firmly locked. Now her heart was thudding. Of course, the door was going to be locked. She bit her lip and turned to her only other option. To check the windows. And all she had to do was turn to the window next to her. It was open which was a surprise since as it was so cold. The girl turned around to see if anyone was watching: there was no one in sight. As quietly as she could, she climbed through the window, her muddy shoes dirtying the designer rug on the floor. Her only choice was to take them off so no one could see where she'd been.

Once she'd slipped them off, she unzipped her rucksack and took out a large knife from her Mum's knife block in the kitchen. It was the biggest and sharpest one she could find. She inspected it in the moonlight, the light bouncing of the steel. It should do the trick. Then she took out a needle used for injections. It was filled with a jet-black liquid. She zipped her rucksack back up and slung it over her shoulder, tiptoeing up the staircase. She winced when the floorboards creaked under her toes. Her socks were wet and cold. She carried on walking until she found the room she wanted. It had a tall, white door. She steadied her breathing and pushed it open. Luckily, the two figures were fast asleep or they would've woken up from the sound. She crept up to the woman and sank the needle deep into her skin. That was to ensure she wouldn't wake up.

Now the important bit. The girl rolled up her sleeves and brandished the knife in front of her. Fuelled by adrenaline, she raised the knife above the man beside her and plunged it deep into his chest, hoping that she'd aimed correctly and knife had pierced his heart. Blood soaked his clothes in an instant. She grabbed the knife's hilt and pulled it out of his chest, wiping the blade on her jeans. The smell of blood circled her. She could fell sweat trickling down her forehead.

And then she bolted out of the house.