I staggered back over to the computer, drops of blood running down my tie and plopping to the carpet in fat splatters as I went. My hands were crimson too, gloved in blood that felt slippery and sticky at the same time.
I sat down and opened the new e-mail, leaving smears of blood on my mouse mat. It felt strange, sliding my hand through the blood, viscous like a layer of oil under my palm.
I worked hard to read the text on screen through my bleary vision, and eventually made out:
"Thank you for your assistance with our experiment.
"I can now inform you that the drug we administered was non-lethal, and that the effects should quickly start to fade.
"By the time the police arrive, in twenty minutes or so, you will be back to your normal self.
"Goodbye and good luck ;)"
I read it again, and again, feeling a state of shock and horror setting in. The fact that I had killed a woman to ensure my own survival was bad enough, but for it to have been a game all along? Some kind of sick experiment?
I found myself crying, silently at first as tears mingled with the blood on my face and then in huge, racking sobs.
I was still crying when the police found me.
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