First time my knife touched skin, and it ripped, blood started flowin so quick, I just couldn't quit. Kept stabbin til everything that I seen was red; the pillows, the blankets, the walls, and even the bed. One color dominating everything like contemporary art. Am I the killer or artist of bloody heart? Then I curled into a ball, in the corner of the room, feelin like a creep in the light of the moon...