I was hunted like prey. I ran through my house collecting weapons and throwing anything I could at my hunter, but it was all in vain. The guy collapsed on my hardwood floor, his blood soaking into the wood. I kicked him for that. I had felt for a non-existent pulse then lay down next to him, trying to catch my breath. I know I'm an idiot for getting blood on my clothes and hands, as well as throwing a knife at him that stuck like I was throwing a dart. I know I'm going to be accused of murdering this man. I didn't do it. The wound that was gushing blood wasn't from me, he got that from someone else.

I couldn't even bury his body and pretend that nothing happened because as I was laying down next to him, red and blue lights flooded into my home. I cursed the guy for entering into my house, of all homes.

The police brought me down to the jail in handcuffs when my story apparently didn't make any sense without any proof. I got to phone for my lawyer, not needing to call for any family members because they were all gone. We went to court and I was sentenced to prison for two years, the case is still being investigated since there was no evidence that it was me who killed the man.

I spent my time cursing the real killer and the murdered man who entered my house then chased me like an idiot. I threw objects at him all because of a misunderstanding, the classic case in a murder case. 'It was all a misunderstanding'. But this isn't the end of my tale.

I was released the same year of this misunderstanding a day before the New Year. During my time in prison, the real killer was caught and imprisoned for life. A weight off my shoulders, honestly. Now I can continue with my life as I had before this whole inconvenience. I'm glad I wasn't caught for my actual crimes. I had moved the bodies the day before that dead man so I wasn't caught, talk about luck.

I sit in my chair in front of the fire with a happy smile on my face. Just for the New Year, I wonder if I should collect one more body in celebration.