Pete's been here for 3 days. They've been pretty uneventful up to this point. Today Pat and Pete are out doing god knows what and I'm home, alone. Just me and my thoughts. This could get... dangerous.
About an hour after they left I became one with my thoughts and found another use for the kitchen knives.
The knife I used was short and sharp as hell. And there I sat. On the kitchen floor. My left arm covered in blood. Bloody knife in my right hand. Blood all over the floor.
Patrick's P. O. V.
Me and Pete were just getting coming inside. We couldn't wait to tell Roxy what happened! We had so much fun. I unlocked the door and opened it. Everything was quite. Maybe she's taking a nap. I thought. So we walked in quietly as we could and went to the kitchen right at the perfect time. Roxy was sitting in the middle of the floor. As I was about to say something, she lifted the knife. What the hell is she doing? I worried. Back and forth. Oh my...
Roxy's P. O. V.
"ROXY WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" Patrick yelled. It scared me so much I dropped the knife. I snapped my neck back and saw Patrick. I started crying.
Tears running down his face. Then before I knew it they were running down mine. "You...you..." He started his voice breaking. I buried my face in my hands and started crying. Pat ran upstairs and grabbed some gauze. While he did that Pete sat with me. His arms around a still sobbing me. When Pat came back he rapped up my arm and three of us sat and watched Friends, as it was on TV. We sat and laughed. Then we found the liquor cabinet...