Kidnapped (1-2)

|Ugly Revelation|

Since the photoshoot in the morning, my mind couldn't focus on anything. The rest of the day passed by in a daze, unable to get her off my mind. At first it felt like I was taking pictures with a ghost - a dead person, but then it slowly came into my realization that she didn't recognize me as a kidnapper.

She just knew me as a model on magazines.

And moreover, her strong voice clearly differed from Sarah's soft one. It created a wall between them both, which made me wonder what my mind was thinking was wrong. Maybe she wasn't Sarah.

I googled 'Evana Hale' and tons of pictures and updates showed up about her. 27, from Creslane, parents alive and been working as a model and actress since she was 18. Now it was obvious that Evana wasn't Sarah - they were just lookalikes. I finally exhaled a breath of relief. I didn't have to worry about anything, but thinking everything's alright made my chest tighten up with guilt.

How did I do something ugly like that?

I avoided my disgusting self in the mirror and sat on my bed, looking at my hands and thinking about Sarah. Even after a long year, the feelings were still intact - as if it was just yesterday. I knew I hadn't killed her, it was that McCarthy, but what was the difference? I was the one who left her alone in that hellhole to die.

But what I hated the most about me was running away from there instead of calling 911. That day was the most ugliest day of my life, and it had been haunting me every night.

***

There were two dead humans in front of me, both of them shot by the same pistol of  McCarthy. His lifeless eyes were still open and it gave off an eerie feeling with all the blood flowing around him.

Sarah's body was lying in front of me, with blood oozing out of her back. My breaths were shaking, and I had no idea about what I should do. The 911 was dialled on my phone, but I barely got the chance to call them up. And now that it's all gone, I lost the courage to do it.

Because I was scared. Scared of being caught. Of being defamed.

After all, that's what I wanted to avoid the whole time.

My hands were coated in blood, so without wasting any second I washed them in the kitchen sink. I grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped away every trace of my footstep that could be available inside. It was a hard task, since my arm was bleeding and paining like hell. But I managed to do it.

Perfection had been my motto all my life, and even in that moment, I cleaned out my traces with perfection.

I looked out of the window and found the dark sky gradually glowing up with the rays of early sunrise - reminding me of the terrible night that had just passed away.

I walked out of the haunted house, scared of turning around to the horrifying scene behind. The rustic smell of blood was stinging my nose, making my stomach churn. I tried my best to stop myself from hurling my insides out.

My chest was shaking, unsteady breaths leaving my lungs. All I could do was just run away from here - run away as far as possible.

The strong winds of September washed by my face, chilling my nerves along my arms. I had to leave my barely-used coat with her because I couldn't bring it back. It was a casual coat I bought once upon a time from a vintage store - and I hoped that wouldn't get me into any trouble.

It took me barely 15 minutes to leave the crime scene and get in my car and drive away, far away from the deserted areas of Gregwood.

All the way, my mind kept thinking about Sarah; her eyes, her cries, her last breath and her everything that finished within one night. I felt like I was the worst person in the whole world - much more worse than McCarthy.

I passed the next few days cautiously - fearing about the killings of McCarthy and Sarah every moment. But I barely heard any news about it, except one day when the article was posted on a newspaper.

Small letters printed in a tiny space, as if it was a really unimportant issue. It was straight rape and murder of the rapist and the victim - yet no one spoke nothing about it.

For many times, I really wanted someone to speak about it, to raise their voices against the crime and hold proper investigation of their murders, so that I could get caught and Sarah could get what she deserved. I wanted to get arrested and get punished for what I did. I even thought of confessing my guilt in front of the court but I never had enough courage to do it. I was living every day of my life, taking hers, as if nothing had gone wrong.

How could I be so selfish?

Since when did I get selfish enough to wash off an innocent's blood from hands just for my own damn sake? How could I lose my sanity and humanity at this level?

I loathed myself for being a human like this. Since the last year I tried my best to avoid people's contact unless it was an important meeting. At first I thought I would lose control if I try to talk casually with my clients, after that incident, I turned out to be extremely calm - so calm that I started to get scared of myself, that 'myself' who could take down lives of innocents just for his own selfishness.

I had been living enduring that ugly self of mine for a long year, but Evana's presence brought out the dark, scarred side of my life back again.

________________________________________________________

Let's hate him for a while.
(don't hate me though).

PLEASE VOTE & COMMENT!!!