Uhhh... I was cleaning and I drempt this one up. I have no clue what's wrong with me...

I was on my knees, scrubbing the floor of the bathroom upstairs. I was in a light blue sweatsuit and my blonde hair was swept into an untidy bun. I was home alone, and Paramore's "Crushcrushcrush" was blaring from a radio. I started to sing along.

In short, I wasn't expecting anything interesting to happen that day.

My entire day was shattered by the sound of breaking glass. My elbow bumped the off button on the radio, and the music stopped. I held my breath. I heard footsteps.

I slowly and quietly crept downstairs. Who I saw made me let out my breath in relief, "James!"

James was my boyfriend. Emphasis on the was. I was planning on breaking up with him the next day.

"Oh, hi, Carrie." He said, sounding slightly guilty.

"Geez, James, you scared the shit out of me, I-" Then my brain caught up with the rest of me, "James, why did you break in? I would have-" I stopped when I saw the gun.

Gleaming silver, it looked mercyless, and like his grey eyes, expressionless.

"Sit down," He said, his voice oddly flat, "Now."

You didn't have to tell me twice. I colapsed on the couch.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I want to break up," he said, his face twisting into an odd smile, "Permanatly."

"Okay, that still doesn't explain why you have to kill me." I said, fighting to keep the anger out of my voice. How dare he?

"I want to know what it feels like," he said, exitement creeping into his voice, "I figured everyone will feel sorry for me. They'll never suspect me. I'll steal some things, make it look like a robbery. People will feel sad for a while. You might even get a page in the yearbook. But soon, everyone will move on."

Acctually, that might be the case. I even wondered wether my best friend, Carly, would remember her poor murdered friend when she was older. That thought scared me.

"Okay, look," I said, stalling, "Before you kill me there's something you should know."

Try as he might, curiousity got the better of him. "What?"

"Before I moved here last year," I said, trying to sound convincing, "I lived in a small town called Derry. When I lived there, I had a boyfriend named Brian.

"He seemed so sweet at first. He was always telling me how much he loved me, bringing me flowers, and taking me places. He was just amazing. I really and truly loved him, and he felt the same way about me. Or so I thought."

James was hanging on my evey word. I lowered my voice slightly. "Then, one night, I went over to his house and saw him kissing another girl. It was dark, and I couldn't tell who she was. But I knew it was him.

"I went home in tears. I even considered suiside. But then I realized that I shouldn't kill myself. I should kill him.

"And there's something else I realized. Despite everything, you just aren't as good as him."

I acted before he could. I pulled the gun I had hidden behind the couch and shot his right hand.

The gun fell harmlessly to the floor as a bright crimson pattern exploded against the wall. James stared at the bloody stump where his hand once was. His face went white as he sunk to his knees. His mouth was open.

"I was planning on doing this tomorrow," I explained, "But you just made this a lot easier. Now it will look like self-defence." Then I shot his chest.

A bright rose of blood appeared on his shirt, and that made me sad. I had really liked that shirt.