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I stabbed a stranger, I don’t remember why but he was in our yard. I killed him and I felt it, I felt his blood splatter my face, the warmth as I stabbed and stabbed and ripped open his chest. My husband was with me, not stopping me nor helping, Just watching me. I dragged his body over the lawn of this beautiful house I do not live in but I sort of did you know? The grass was freshly cut and covered in dew, even though it was midday in summer, It wasn't hot. It wasn't cold enough for dew either. I put him in the garden shed, He was dead by now. I went along and cleaned the grass off, not with a hose but endless tissues as if it were fine carpet. My older sister, which I don't have comes home. Her husband and her kids all have no faces, Just black. Daughter 3, Brown curls and pigtails. Son unknown, I saw nothing. Husband roughly 40, Dark hair. My older sister was a short, stumpy fat blonde, I have seen her before, I know this because she had a face. My husband and I were in our room, Which looked more like the intensive care unit in the Mental Health section of the hospital, It was empty and dark but I knew it was white. My sister walked in she brought sudden light to the room and asked me how I was. I told her good but she wasn’t satisfied and continued to ask questions, but the one thing she didn’t ask about and that I was sure she would, was why there is blood all over me. Was this a normal look for me? I told her, I told her how I killed a man and he was in the back shed, No one particularly cared except my sister, not even the children. She was so shocked, she asked me for the weapon and I had forgotten what I had used. Turns out it was some old dagger with what looked to be a big chicken bone as the handle, strange. I ended up stabbing her to death after catching a glimpse of the weapon. No one was bothered by my second killing, I suppose she did look like a nagging twat. My husband was known for the bad things he had done in the past, He has a reputation around here, He killed a man with his own two hands, He went to jail and broke out, disappeared for ten years, Turns out he was on the other side of the world working in a kitchen, Not a regular kitchen. drugs. He spoke for the first time that day and simply said for me to “Stop it”. “There’s already two dead, what’s left to stop”? I said to him tauntingly “I’m calling the police and you aren't going anywhere”. He shouted I continued to explain how bad this could look for him also, I cut my arm with the weapon and smashed a beautiful vase across my head and proceeded to hug him transferring most of the blood and slipping the knife into his pocket. I pulled out the cell and dialed for the police, I told them my husband was trying to kill me and he was already killed two, gave them the address and hung up. I kissed him and walked out of the house laughing hysterically.