here i am again; my chest is screaming. my fingertips throbbing. my lips moving aimlessly and conjuring crossroads of entangled red thread but there's no pin board. im stepping on the pins and crying in a waterfall of blood. there's no need for an investigation because i am the murderer. this isn't a murder mystery it is a murderer and her sad crumbling thoughts and heartache and blood stained fingers and suffocated voice.