Drive on. We'll sweep up the blood later!

Drive on. We'll sweep up the blood later!

"Drive on. We'll sweep up the blood later!" These words echoed in my mind as I sat behind the wheel, my hands trembling as I tried to process what had just happened. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, making my stomach churn with nausea. I glanced in the rearview mirror, my heart sinking at the sight of the crimson stains splattered across the backseat.

I had never imagined myself in a situation like this, where blood would be spilled and I would be left to clean up the mess. But here I was, a witness to a violent altercation that had escalated out of control. The words of my companion, cold and detached, rang in my ears as we sped away from the scene of the crime.

As we drove on, the weight of what had transpired settled heavily on my shoulders. I couldn't shake the image of the bloodied bodies lying on the ground, the sound of their cries still echoing in my ears. I felt a sense of guilt and shame wash over me, knowing that I had been complicit in this act of violence.

But as my companion reminded me, we had to keep moving forward. There was no time to dwell on the blood that had been spilled, no time to wallow in regret. We had to drive on, leaving the scene behind us as we raced towards an uncertain future.

I tried to push aside the thoughts of the blood that stained my hands, the blood that would need to be cleaned up later. I focused on the road ahead, the headlights cutting through the darkness as we hurtled towards our destination. But no matter how fast we drove, the memory of that blood would always linger, a reminder of the choices we had made and the consequences we would have to face.

As we finally came to a stop, my companion turned to me with a grim smile. "Drive on," they said, their voice cold and unfeeling. "We'll sweep up the blood later." And with a heavy heart, I knew that the blood on my hands would never truly be washed away.