I went into their bathroom and searched for some bleach, placing the now bullet less gun of the counter top, how stupid I am for not bringing my own bleach and I called myself a murderer, such a rookie mistake. There was none in the bathroom, so I went to the kitchen, forgetting the gun behind. The kitchen was stark as if they were planning to move out. But sadly, for them I made them reach their final destination a lot sooner then they anticipated. After searching through all the old wooden cabinets and still coming empty handed, I let out a small sigh. At this rate I would get caught and brought to that terrible place that mother talked about. Wait, what was it called again? Oh right, jail. The sound of the word echoed inside of me, she described it as if it were the worst place to be, it was awful she would claim, but what I was doing was killing people everyone knew the fittest survived, and anyways everyone killed, right? the first prick of doubt washed over me. If it was normal to kill, then why did we have to hide? Was mother lying to me when she said everyone kills? The other children that I saw never tried to hurt or attack me when I drew closer to kill them, I always thought they were too stupid to understand, but what if it was because other children were not taught the same as me.