I wiped the blood off of my hands, wondering at its purpose. Spread across my fingers it served no one, so why was it there?

I hadn’t seen Rachel in a while, I thought as I watched the TV. It was some sort of show about cannibalism. I ran a toothpick between my teeth, widening my eyes in disgust as something long and stringy followed the pick out of my mouth. I stared at it a while, wondering if I’d chewed my red velvet cushion the night before.

I was full, but I didn’t know why. My stomach was packed to the brim, nearly overflowing – and yet I could have sworn that breakfast and lunch had passed me by. In fact, looking at the clock that read 2 o’clock, it seemed a whole hour had passed by without me noticing. Something at the back of my head told me that I’d done something important but refused to tell me what it was.

It was only later when the police knocked on my door that I even knew Rachel was dead.