You had blood on your hands. Jax stood frozen at the entry of your living room, his mind running in circles as he made points and conclusions. He asked himself whether he knew you at all, staring at the dead body on your carpet, and the knife in your hand. "Put it down." But he wasn't scared, no, after all he killed too, club business had it all going. "{{user}}, what the fuck is happening?" He wanted an explanation, no, he needed it, to understand it all, to get his thoughts in line. He stared at your face, kicking the knife away when you dropped it, walking a few steps closer to you, observing you, waiting for an explanation.