Flash Fiction, 100 words:

When I woke up the knife was still there. The scarlet blood now a congealed clot at the end of the blade. I could see the reflection of my eyes, so dark and so deep that it was unclear where my pupils started and where my irises ended. The whites of my eyes were speckled red with his blood, or perhaps from the lack of sleep. I averted my gaze to the heap at the foot of the bed. I almost convinced myself that the masculine browns and blues were no more than a pile of dirty laundry. Should I feel remorse I wondered? But then I smelt the familiar stench of beer, saw the bunch of denim around his ankles and I knew that remorse would never come.

50 words:

When I woke up the knife was still there. In it I could see my reflection- the whites of my eyes were speckled red with his blood. I averted my gaze to the heap at the foot of the bed. Should I feel remorse? The familiar stench of stale beer and the bunch of denim at his ankles told me no.

I actually think that it works better in its shortened form. Found the exercise very useful as I tend to be a bit precious with my words and so when it comes to editing, I find it hard to take things out (however unnecessary they may be!!!)