In the distant future

Rain poured on the window as the dark clouds rolled by, the mood was bleak. There was a tense atmosphere, but without reason. His day was going pretty well, nothing too much to worry about. As he was getting ready to make himself lunch, the telephone rang throughout the house.

He answered, surprised who was the caller, "Hello?"

"He's dead."

"Tabitha, hello? What do you mean? Who's dead?"

There was silence on the other line, he was worried that she was gone, but then with a sob she answered, "H-he's dead. He's finally gone."

"Wait, don't do anything! I'm coming right now."

Without waiting for her response, he hung up grabbing his jacket and ran out in the rain. What did she do?

Reaching the house, he didn't have to ring the doorbell, it was slightly ajared. This dropped his stomach, cautiously entering the home. Usually he would take time to look at it's grandiousity, but he was distracted. Not by his thoughts, but the trail of blood on the floor, they weren't in big puddles, but small drops.

"Tabitha, are you here? Are you alright?"

Small footsteps were heard, until there was a stop.

Her hands trembled, blood dripping from them. His eyes drifted up to see bloody handprints on her dress and neck. Her eyes were void of emotion, it was like he was looking into a statue.

"I did it, I killed him. Help me, please."

To Be Continued.....