Humor Me

PROLOUGE
Clara Hutchings knew it, the moment she looked at Harold Star, that there would be no turning back now. She was wanted all over, and so was Todd. If she turned back now, they would both be locked away, probably ending up dead.
Harold Star lay slumped against the brick wall, the crisp white shirt turning crimson very quickly. The knife, a bead of blood constantly dripping onto the floor horribly, sickly, at her foot. She stooped and picked it up, wiping it on her father’s sleeve before stowing it in the cloth in her pocket.
Todd was pale, and looked as if he was going to throw up. Clara looked at her father one last time before grabbing Todd’s arm and pulling him along.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s go, now.” She pushed out the door and through the hall.
She knew already she would feel nothing as she drove the blade through her father. She knew. She had no feelings left. Nothing.
She was empty.