Awakening

My eyes opened slowly, groggily, my head pounding, a horrible sense of disorientation pulsing through my body. Eyes were the first image to register to me, brown eyes wide with what appeared to be shock or pain. The rest of the face registered as the fog lifted from my brain, and I stood horrified by the pain and anguish apparent in it. He had what could in more pleasent circumstances be called pleasing features, fair skin, blonde hair cropped close, and a mouth women seemed to adore in the likes of hollywood leading men.

I became aware of an unnatural warmth flowing over my left hand and looked down, crying out involuntarily as I realized that sticky warmth was the man's blood flowing from a wound in his stomach. I pulled away from the other man, my hand releasing the hilt of the blade as I scurried back from the horror before me. Fear beat a rhythm with the searing pain in my head, and I sank against what I supposed to be the far wall, trembling with revulsion and confusion. Where was I? Why had I seemingly attacked this man?

He fell backward in what seemed to be slow motion, his head bouncing off the hardwood flooring with a dull thud that richocheted off the walls of the room, a hollow, hopeless sound that deepened my dispair. He lay motionless, giving no signs of life, no rasping, no twitching, not even the movement of his chest that would signify his taking in air.

I slowly lifted my body into a crouch, moving cautiously over to him, keeping more than an arm's length between us. My eyes traveled to the blood soaking his white shirt, his black suit jacket and tailored pants, the square-toed dress shoes. The man was dressed for some fancy party, I supposed. But how did that involve me? And just who the hell am I? I had no recollection of myself prior to gripping a knife that had skewered a man.

His eyes stared out into space, following his soul off into a distant plane that living eyes would never see. I felt for a pulse I knew I would never find. I was a murderer, and I had no idea why.