AN: So, this is my first story of Let me know your honest opinion on this short story of mine. I wrote it for my Creative Writing class, but I wanted to get someone else's opinion. Also, I'll be adding more of my pieces from my class, so be on the look-out.

The Baseball Bat

I felt like it was mocking me. It was nearly four in the morning, but my exhausted mind wasn’t able to fall asleep. With my problem solved, I should be peacefully curled into my blankets, dreaming about abnormalities of my subconscious. I was too busy staring, though –staring at the wooden baseball bat sitting in the corner of my room; it was taunting me.

“They’ll see me, and know,” the bat seemed to say, “They’ll know about the terrible thing you did. Is that what you want?”

I shook my head vigorously, both in response to the inanimate object and to the thought that it was actually talking.

Pulling the soft, down comforter over my head, I tried to block it out. Even from here, I could smell the ever-lingering scent of bleach, and I whimpered in protest. I buried my nose into the pillow, inhaling deeply, but it seemed like the scent was burned into my nostrils –I could still smell it.

“You’re acting too guilty, Angela. Do you really think people are that stupid?” The baseball bat questioned archly, and added, “They’ll know you did something wrong…”

I bolted up in bed, tossed the sheet away, and practically snarled at the wooden object. “Shut up! Just shut up, you stupid thing!” I screeched, clamping my hands down over my ears, hoping to any God that was listening to make it stop with its suggestions.

When the voice didn’t stop, I scrambled out of bed, and stomped my way over to the baseball bat. “They know what you did to Charlie. If I’m here, they’ll be able to figure it out…” It said snidely, and I could swear that the damn thing grinned at me.

“Fine,” I retorted sharply, “I’ll just make sure they have nothing to find…” Unlike this baseball bat that I now gripped in my hands, my threat wasn’t empty.

I trudged my way angrily through my small apartment, the wood digging into my palm as I held in tightly in my fist. With my other hand, I grabbed my car keys, and without bothering with shoes, I exited the bleach-scented apartment.

All throughout the halls of my apartment building, the baseball bat continued to chatter relentlessly, and I feared the other tenants would hear it. No one was awake, though. When I made it to the parking lot, my body instantly went rigid –Mr. Roberts, my neighbor from across the hall, was making his way towards me, clad in a jogging suit. I had forgotten he went running before work.

As he neared, the baseball bat in my hand began shouting. “She beat Charlie in the head with me! Take her away, take her away.”

The last part was chanted in a sing-song voice, and I knew that the color had drained from my face. Had Mr. Roberts heard the bat?

His facial expression didn’t change, though. He nodded politely to me as he passed, murmuring quietly. “Good morning.” I breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t comment on the baseball bat’s words.

I arrived at my car, and placed the offensive wooden object directly in front of my tires. “No one will find out –not because of me, and certainly not because of you.” I hissed, and slid into the drivers’ seat. The key turned in the ignition with a slight turn of my hand, and I felt myself smile.

My foot pressed down hard on the gas, and I heard the most pleasant sound in the world –the sound of splintering wood.