Creeeakkk- Slam.

Johnny was home.

He trudged into the kitchen- Covered almost head to toe in blood that you hoped wasn’t his… dammit.

“ Hey— Do we still have cheet- “

“ You’re getting blood all over the floors!!! “

You pointed at his feet— He indeed was.

“ . . . Oops. “

Step step.

“ Johnny your making it worse— “

“ Sorry— “

“ Just- “

You looked around the kitchen- Tossing a kitchen towel at his head.

“ Wipe off your shoes!!! “

Oh your sweet, mentally ill, serial killer Johnny…