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I push the floorboards back into place over the hidden compartment in the floor, and inspect it. Nothing suspicious to see from anyone else's perspective. Who would think that the two entangled knots in the wood flooring was the marking of the edge of the removable lid? Two forever closed eyes to conceal all secrets. Nobody would dare accuse me of some wrongdoing. Where was the evidence?

At the realization of my success, I noticed how the blood yet throbbed through the veins in my temples. A deep, infuriating red clouded my vision. Reasonable thought was shunted aside by a new conciousness of bloodlust. Oh, how I desired to commit such a deed once more! There was a thrill to it that could never be surpassed, a sense of undeniable power to intoxify my being. "Maybe... Maybe it was wrong to do," I heard my reason suggest feebly. "It wasn't right."

"No, no. It was wholly deserved. If I hadn't, someone else would've had to eventually," My other, callous thoughts argued. "I just saved another the trouble of filthying their hands."

I felt myself nodding slightly in agreement in the last statement. What he had done was necessary. And if something is necessary, it is completely okay to do. But it must still remain secret. Nobody can ever realize the truth. Nobody could ever know he committed the deed that was so necessary to be done.

He reminisced back to the act as he looked in a mirror, seeing the flecks of red spattered over his body. The warm rain splashing over him. It stained, stung his eyes as they were attacked. The wonderful plunging feeling. It was over, the deed was done. She was dead.