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Description
Why the terror-filled eyes staring at the scene made by his own hands?
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Tony heaved for breath, his limbs shaking as he looked down at his handy-work. Bright, pink blood stained his tie and suit, painting him a deep rose. Wearing the life essence of his former best friend, like some sick outfit. He sobbed, letting out a wail of anguish, as he realized the gravity of what he had just done...His arms wrapped around the butchered Shrignold, holding tightly the still-warm corpse of his friend. "NO-NO, NO, NO-NO -I DIDN'T - OH GOD NO-WHAT HAVE I DONE?! WHAT DID I DO?!?" Tony's body shook, as his chest heaved each gut-wrenching cry of anguish. He let go of Shrignold's lifeless body, and let out an ear-piercing shriek of terror, as he looked down at his own hands. Thick, dark rose colored blood coated them, dripping down through his palm and fingers. A scene straight out of a horror movie laid before his eyes. He skittered backwards, slipping in the pool of blood of his own creation. Slamming cheek-first into the pile of gore. Before finally gaining purchase, and slowly dragging himself over to the farthest wall from Shrig's still form.

His stomach retching in him, as he emptied it's contents upon the floor next to him. His mind raced, thoughts running a mile a minute. Why the terror-filled eyes stared at the scene made by his own hands? Murder. He had just. Committed. Murder. He had just mercilessly and brutally slaughtered one of his dearest friends. His dearest friend. It was unheard of. No one in Clayville has killed another in hundreds of years.
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Description
Why the terror-filled eyes staring at the scene made by his own hands?
------------------------------------------------------------------
Tony heaved for breath, his limbs shaking as he looked down at his handy-work. Bright, pink blood stained his tie and suit, painting him a deep rose. Wearing the life essence of his former best friend, like some sick outfit. He sobbed, letting out a wail of anguish, as he realized the gravity of what he had just done...His arms wrapped around the butchered Shrignold, holding tightly the still-warm corpse of his friend. "NO-NO, NO, NO-NO -I DIDN'T - OH GOD NO-WHAT HAVE I DONE?! WHAT DID I DO?!?" Tony's body shook, as his chest heaved each gut-wrenching cry of anguish. He let go of Shrignold's lifeless body, and let out an ear-piercing shriek of terror, as he looked down at his own hands. Thick, dark rose colored blood coated them, dripping down through his palm and fingers. A scene straight out of a horror movie laid before his eyes. He skittered backwards, slipping in the pool of blood of his own creation. Slamming cheek-first into the pile of gore. Before finally gaining purchase, and slowly dragging himself over to the farthest wall from Shrig's still form.

His stomach retching in him, as he emptied it's contents upon the floor next to him. His mind raced, thoughts running a mile a minute. Why the terror-filled eyes stared at the scene made by his own hands? Murder. He had just. Committed. Murder. He had just mercilessly and brutally slaughtered one of his dearest friends. His dearest friend. It was unheard of. No one in Clayville has killed another in hundreds of years.
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