[ WP ] Write a short murder mystery from the killer 's perspective

I do n't know what happened... but when I awoke from my daze all I could see was red. Oh my God, it was everywhere. Just an endless sea of red... How could ONE person produce this much blood. Oh God... the way their body was splayed out on the floor. I was afraid... not because the murderer might still be around, but that *I* might be the monster that did this. I... I looked down at my hands. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck oh my God. They were stained with dried blood! Thoughts raced through my head, I hyperventilated as the small room closed in around me. I could n't of done this, I'm a good person. I was framed! That's what happened, someone drugged me and put me here as part of some... some fucked up game of theirs. Where even am I? It smells so bad, the musty smell of an abandoned basement overpowered my nose. I do n't even know what this place is! But the person, who is the person?! I hope it's someone I do n't know. I did n't do this! I... I got ta look at their face. No... No.... NOOOOOOO! Sarah! Holy my God... Why? Why her? Why would I do this?! Oh my God... It's coming back to me. We were... We were fighting about something, but what was it? Think, think, think! It was about money. No, not that... We argued about money a lot, but... I would n't KILL her over it! Wait, no, what am I saying?! I did n't kill my wife! Ok, John, what happened during the fight? I... I smacked her. I smacked her because she said something and she fell... She fell and hit her head on the corner of the table... She was knocked out and barely breathing... But then I hit her again... and again... and again... Why did I hit her?! Stop it! Stop hitting her! Why did you do that John!? I had to hide the body... She stopped breathing and I panicked... But everything is such a blur... How did I get here? I did n't even cut her! None of this makes sense! What was that? Oh no, someone's coming. I got ta... I got ta run! I got ta -- **BANG! ** 
 
 *From the darkness of the room a mysterious man wipes his revolver down and tosses it to the side. He walks over towards the barely breathing John and nudges the limp body with his foot. The assassin lights up a cigarette and pulls out his phone. `` Borya, job is done.'' The man said with a thick Russian accent. He throws the phone on the ground, crushes it with his foot and walks out of the warehouse. * 
 
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 Sorry if it's not too great of a story, it's been a while and this is my first post to the sub.
