Caroline Jones: A Short Story

“I didn’t mean to kill her,” I told myself, looking gravely in the mirror. I wanted to believe these words but the dull, bloodshot eyes staring back at me said otherwise. I grasped the sides of the sink even harder, looking down, not wanting to see the monster I’ve made of myself. Pushing my hands off the sink with great force, I eventually stood up straight and walked out of the bathroom. As I walked down the hallways’ twisting and turning with no end, the floorboards creaked loudly as if in pain. Her name was Caroline. Caroline Jones. We used to be best friends our sophomore year of highschool, but recent events have taken a turn.
I was driving down Meadow Lane while laughing with my best friend, Caroline.
“Okay...Okay,” she said