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bloody hand

Registrado en Safe Creative

I had bloody hands when I came back home. Luckily, my brother was already sleeping.

Quietly, I went towards the toilet. I tried washing my hands with soap and water, after a few minutes, I was able to eliminate even the small traces of blood that had been embedded under the nails. Relieved, I looked at myself in the mirror. My whole face was beaded with sweat from the effort and nerves, fortunately, the worst was over.

Suddenly, a noise by the door startled me. Immediately, I put my hand into my pocket looking for the penknife. I was completly paralyzed when I saw my little brother:

—Gabby, how long until you finish? —he asked me with a sleepy voice while rubbing his eyes.

I felt how the air was returning to my lungs: apparently he didn’t see the blood.

—Not much —answered to him —. I’m going to bed right now and you should do the same.

—Ok, but I wanna have a pee.

—Alright then. Hurry up. I’m waiting for you outside.

—You’re taking me to the amusement park tomorrow as you promised, aren’ t you? —he said to me while I was covering him with the blanket.

—Of course, Abel. I never break my promises.

—Alex is coming too, isn’t he?

I turned around before he could see the expression on my face.

—Yes, Abel. Now go to sleep.

When I closed the door, I sat on the floor and layed my hands on my face, trying to stop the choking sensation that came to my chest. I haven’t been able to tell him that Alex is dead. How do you tell a seven years old kid that his old brother had to kill his best friend?

It wasn’t my fault, he pounced on me like crazy, it was his life or mine…

I can’t keep writing anymore, today’s memory is tormenting me. I wish to wake up tomorrow and realize that this has only been a bad dream.
I really wish…