Main Character Vibes

Murder he wrote

Elias was still standing, completely motionless, in the same spot in the kitchen. Witnessing death for the first time, in such proximity, paralyzed him with fearful respect, awe, and submission. As if death, itself, was a sentient deity in its own right.

But what his eyes had seen could not be unseen. He had never broken eye contact with Tilly. Even when she collapsed to the floor. Even when she extended her pleading arm to reach for him as she drowned in the expanding pool of her own blood...all the while her frightened eyes kept staring at his stunned face. He knew it was real.

He knew it was real because he witnessed the slow departure of life from her eyes as she gasped her last few breaths. In one instant her eyes harbored the spark of life. In another instant, they were completely glazed...completely lifeless.

Although gruesome, it was a sickly fascinating thing to witness the slow departure of life from the eyes of someone as the dimness of death completely settled in. In that ephemeral moment, when death clicked, your heart skipped a beat. It was like going down a stairwell in pitch-black darkness and thinking that there was an extra step to descend. In that dark moment of obscure bewilderment of when your foot goes through the air past where a step should have been, your heart skips that same beat.

His mind kept retracing the chain of events. Her innocent bloody body struggling for life on the floor...her gasping for air in shock, in sorrow, in heartbreak...her eyes conveying her weeping heart that was bewildered by a betrayal so unthinkable.

The last thing she would have seen was his expressionless stunned face. She must have misconstrued it for uncaring detachment. If only he had one more chance to clarify that he did care, that it wasn't apathy, that he was paralyzed in shock...but Tilly would never be again. That was it. Her last impression of him was what would echo with her...if there was life after death.

Elias turned impetuously to the kitchen sink and began vomiting.

Unable to bear the sight of Tilly's bloody corpse, he ran to the bathroom, fell to his knees, and sank his head deep into the toilette. Like an ostrich sinking its head in the sand hoping to conceal itself from a reality whose harshness was becoming too life-like. He retched violently as he panted and gasped for air.

As his nausea gradually subsided, he leaned his back on the wall sitting on the cold ceramic of the bathroom floor.

The fear of prison was slowly materializing in his mind. There was no freedom for the wicked. This was an unacceptable fate worse than death...even worse than suicide.

Elias slowly rose to his feet, took in a deep breath, and began staring at himself in the mirror.

Like an animal threatened with captivity, his primal instincts for survival suddenly took hold of him. Although his mind was still reeling, it held itself back from completely spiraling in panic and fearful abandon; from spiraling out of control. Something suddenly clicked. He was filled with what can only be described as pragmatic calmness. His panting and short breathing suddenly returned to their normal rhythm. He needed to survive. Prison was not an option. What was done was done. There was nothing he could do, no amount of guilt could change that; could bring Tilly back from the dead.

Elias came out of the bathroom, crossed over Tilly's corpse, leaping on his toes as he did, to ensure that he did not step in any puddles of her blood. He reached for his duffle bag. The bottom of it was smeared with blood. He took out a sponge cloth from one of the kitchen drawers and soaked it slightly under the kitchen sink before he wrung it dry in his tightening fist. He then began wiping his duffle bag with meticulous obsession. After a few minutes of intense scraping and rubbing, it seemed bloodless enough.