Guilty

(I'd like to preface this story by saying no, I'm not insane. When I'm really stressed, this is how I vent. And, seeing that I'm a junior and it's now third quarter, I have plenty of reasons to vent. Thus, here's my creepy story. Apparently, some of the words I use don't exist, but I like them so they'll stay for now.)

     She smiled at him, glassy eyes never flickering. His legs trembled, the floor felt as if it shifted beneath his feet. All the time her teeth flashed white and gleaming in the darkness. Blood covered his hands, the trail led to her feet. Whose blood? Suddenly, it was as if streams poured from his every edifice. How could he stop it? He screamed, the taste of liquid iron filling his mouth. 
     Her grin only widened, the corners of her lips stretching past her ears like an unstitched puppet. "Silly," she said, speaking through her teeth. "It's not  you."
     The rushing sensation stopped. He looked to the ground and followed the trail of blood across the spaceless floor, to her feet, and up the hem of her translucent white dress, like tissue paper clinging to her shoulders. The source of the red spring came came from her long, pale neck. The gash could not have been from a knife, it was not so clean. Her delicate skin had been punctured, torn open with bare hands.
     He followed the trail back to himself, his clothes, his skin stained scarlet. It began to burn like fire consuming his body. He cried for mercy.
     "It wasn't me!" he pleaded. The tears that ran from his eyes were acid that only made him howl the more. "It wasn't me! It wasn't me! It wasn't me!" 
     Her smile never waned. it was still as a painting as her words dripped into the open air. "Guilty." She pointed a slender finger at his forehead. "Guilty."
     "No!" he sobbed.
     "Guilty."
The final syllable shook the room, made the floor give way and the walls crumble around them. Splintered wood pierced his skin and cement rubble crushed his bones, his voice drowned until all sound was deafened.
     "...all rise."
The courtroom burst back into focus with a force that made his stomach shudder. His lawyer pulled him to his feet as the representative jury member took the stand.
     "We the jury of Brunswick county..."
     He clutched the ends of his sports coat. "I didn't do it..." he hissed.
     His lawyer clapped a hand on his shoulder, more of a command for silence than a gesture of comfort.
The juror continued,
     "...In the case of the murder of Shannon Paisley..."
     "I'm innocent..."
     A squeeze to his shoulder.
     "...find the defendant..."
     "I'm innocent!"
     "Guilty."