Unlike anything I've ever done before. This is for a contest, so please be respectful of that fact that it's my work. I'm only putting in on here to get a start on what people think of it...so I beg you to read, rate, and review.Drip. Drip. Drip. It doesn’t stop. It never will.

I stare down at my hands, my once-clean hands now screaming ‘fiend, murderer!’ I was told that darkness is the absence of color, of light, of innocence, and now I find that to be true. There is no more innocence in my life, not after the sins I have committed.

Three cold winters have already passed. Three cold reminders of what I have done, what has passed and will continue to pass in front of my closed eyes. Don’t dwell on the past, they have said. Don’t dwell on the past or worry about the future. What future? The past is all I have.

The air bites into my skin, and, sickly, I like it. No pain will ever make up for my horrid deed, but it’s a start, isn’t it? Yes, it’s a start.

I laugh manically. It doesn’t matter; no one can hear me. No one would care anyway, save for one mother whose children are perhaps running the woods tonight. She would care. She wouldn’t want her precious babies to come face-to-face with me, now, would she?

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“I hear you,” I sing aloud, a wild smirk widening my lips. The time when I didn’t believe has long since passed, when I didn’t believe in the continuous dripping. That time was over.

No, I didn’t try to ignore it anymore. I know it’s there. It’s always there, always haunting me, relentless.

I laugh again, rocking back on my heels to stare at the star-ridden sky. I hate it. It’s ugly. There are too many flaws, too many blemishes, too many DAMNED STARS!

My yell of frustration cuts through the tree, silencing the animals that dared to speak, dared to call attention to something other than the beautiful, dark trees. I hate animals. I hate them because they always steal the attention away. They’re the ones who are more important. They’re the ones who whine and cry until everyone is focused on them. I HATE animals.

My fist slams against a rock on the wet ground without my consent. I bring it up again and stare at the blood for a few seconds before laughing again. The liquid is so warm, so red, even in the pale light. It’s so familiar.

And without warning, it’s not mine. I stare down at a linoleum floor, the white linoleum floor with dark red pools. The little boy is scared, but he’s calming down. He knows he’ll be with his sister soon. It’s just the blood that scares him, the sweet, thick, warm blood.

“I love you, son, you know that,” I say, my voice quiet and comforting. “I always will. Don’t be afraid.” I’m crooning to him, and he’s staring at me fearfully, beautiful blue eyes wide and betrayed. I smile again. “It will all be over soon. I gave you a gift; you should be happy.”

“W-why?” he asks, his seven-year-old voice trembling. He is intelligent beyond his years. “Why Mommy? W-why Alyssa?”

I grin, shaking my head. “Because you all will be happier escaping this hell we call the world.” I reach out to him to hug him, but he flinches back, shaking so bad it seems he might shatter right now. He’s dying. I know it, he knows it too. “I love you, Jonathon.” Once more I raise my knife to him, the very knife I had said I would make dinner with. And once more he flinches back, against the corner. I bring the knife down hard, spattering the walls with blood once again, covering myself with another coat of that sweet life.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

My chest shakes with the maniacal laughter I have become familiar with as once again I rock back onto my heels, my knees drawn close to my chest. Lovely memories; always so inviting, the things I really do enjoy. They never let you forget. Never, never, never.

“Memory - all alone in the moonlight,” I sing quietly to myself, my laughs almost taking over the melody of the famous song. “I can smile at the old days. I was beautiful then. I remember the time I knew what happiness was. Let the memory live again.” Ha. Ha ha ha! I was lying to myself again! Happiness? Sure, maybe before I met that bitch called my wife. Maybe before those stupid little children came into our lives.

But oh, how I loved them: little Alyssa and Jonathon. Oh, how I loved them.

Tears streak down my face as I hit the ground with my fist again, the same fist I had sliced open on the rock before. Pain again. Good. Still on my way to redeeming myself.

“Ha. Like that’ll happen.”

A fox somewhere in the forest cries at me, looking for food or going after something that hurt its kits. How ironic.

“Poor little foxy, don’t know what to do,” I sing cheerfully again, tilting my head from side to side as I do so, keeping time. “Where are you now? What’re you up to?” I giggle at the rhyme. “I’m a poet and I didn’t know it. I can make a rhyme anytime. Don’t’ leave me little dove, you know it’s you I love.” I succumb to tears once again, bawling at such a simple deed.

“You didn’t have to do that, Cara. You didn’t have to do that, you FUCKING BITCH!” My voice tears through the night, but this time the animals aren’t stopped by me. They’ve grown used to my yelling. I laugh again and don’t even care that it’s humorless.

“I loved you Cara. I still love you, Cara. So why were you so cruel? There was nothing wrong…nothing wrong at all. It was all in your mind.” I glared at the ground. “But now you’re in a better place, huh? You’re in the hell where you belong.” Then a crazy little thought comes into my mind: maybe I should join her.

“Why wait another few days? It’s pointless.” Once again, the sardonic grin works its way onto my face. “Why wait when it’s so simple? Why didn’t I think of doing it sooner before? I don’t have to wait.” I laugh as I reach into my pocket for the blade I know is there. It’s still covered in dried, old blood. “I love you, Cara. I love you, Alyssa, Jonathon,” I chant as I raise the blade and stare at it.

“You’re my friend, aren’t you?” I ask, grinning down at the blade. “I can’t wait to see you, Cara. I can’t wait to see you.” I plunge the knife into my chest, right over my heart, still grinning satanically even as I fall to my back. Finally, the sky is void of those stars. Those damned stars.

Drip. Drip. Drip.