Sunday, October 18, 2009,
Chapter 1: Murderer
“Why aren’t you smiling? Smile. The world is so much brighter that way,” I say, looming over the dead body. “The room is so pretty, look at all the red hues. I love red. I love roses.” Placing a rose next to her, I creep out of the room.***Be like a flower, girl. Flowers are pretty. Flowers are graceful. You must be a flower.No. I hate flowers.Look at this rose. How beautiful, how fragrant, how elegant.It has thorns.***I am a rose. A beautiful one. But when someone touches me, I get mad. My thorns prick their finger.And they bleed.
8:28 PM