The Cleanup

I did it because I could.
But now as I survey the aftermath, I wonder if it was the right thing to do.
Body parts litter the floor, appearing to float upon a sea of crimson.
Nudging aside a jumbled mass of innards, I can feel myself deflating.
His screams have stopped. There's that.
The exhilaration of the act was beyond intense, but it was fleeting; once I saw the life leave his eyes, I knew the rush would fade just as quickly.
I really must clean this mess up; my husband will be back from his trip this evening.