The night Carol Died.


In the darkness of her vision, she thought he moved. Thought for a split second that life has returned to him. But that would mean it was a nightmare. And Carol had those often enough to know when she was facing that or the truth. There was no breathe from the slack jaw of his mouth. Hadn't been for days. She stank near as bad as his cold corpse. Carol shifted where she sat . Ass sore and tired from sitting on the cold stone of the kitchen.

After a few days of sitting her emotions had settled, a creeping ice in her bones. Mouth dry she put a hand on her knee and finally got up. His body shifted then, unsupported now. The corpse slumped to one side, Carol couldnt bear to look at him any longer. She needed other things. Need was one of few feelings she knew. And right now that need was a shower. She took off the top of her clothes, but left the skin tight under armor. Stepping in just like that. Hot water burned away the 3 days of mania from her skin. Blood crusted every inch of her fingers. Turning her head up she drank from the spray of water. The tub water darkening with the blood, the drain never had gotten cleaned. Hot water burned away the 3 days of mania from her skin. Blood crusted every inch of her fingers. Turning her head up she drank from the spray of water. The tub water darkening with the blood, the drain never had gotten cleaned. There it was. That question had stabbed and pierced her. Pinning her to the spot she'd been sitting in on the cold tile. That would never leave her, that would live in her memory. Playing over and over behind her eyelids. It did now, the water played tricks on her. Hearing his voice when no sound would ever come from him. The backpack he'd packed was propping the bathroom door open.

He'd dropped it when Carol had advanced. No! She tells herself. STOP FUCKING THINKING ABOUT IT. Why? Something cold inside asked. That ice would not thaw. The water only was surface level. No matter how angry red her skin got. The burning water would not wash her mistakes away.

There would be no one to know she cried, the water washed it away. Fooling even herself. Her face tight as those tears poured, invisible. Hotter then the water. When the ice grew too cold in her heart she stepped out of the lukewarm shower. Not knowing how long she'd been inside. Was it lighter out when she's stood? The home she'd been living in was alien. She was alien. A monster. Carol took a shuddering breath and trailed water into the hall. Seeking clothes among the unorganized mess.

When she'd clothed, her throat tight. She hoarsley calls. "i'm going for a walk." If his corpse heard she wouldn't know. So out the door Carol went. Locking it behind her. It was very late, the moon hung low and bright overhead. Enough so to cast a shadow on the ground. Carol lit a cigarette. Took her walk.

Nicotine and fresh air, a breeze and the distant highway.

She knew the walk to her favorite field we well as her scara. Smoking through packs of cigarettes in the dead of night there. Tonight was going to be no different. Carol just hoped to come back with a clear head.She saw his form before he saw her. A dark narrow shadow atop a short hill. The field was really a large drainage ditch. The hill he stood on was more of the lip of the ditch. Where she would sit. Something burned below her ice. Carol didn't know what it was.


It was late, very late. The moon was starting to fade with the early light seeping over the horizon of middle class housing. Birds were just beginning their chirps, and the soft huff of a man's breath broke the silence around himself. He had run nearly a mile, the bloody twisted form at his feet had run a good length. Had even hid from him successfully for sometime. The dim light seemed dull the color of the corpse.Crouching low, still catching his breath the man uses his gloves hands to pick up a single digit. Wrenching off the ring on her ring finger. Putting it in his inner pocket for the time being. Now he finally had a match. He twined long fingers through her hair. Lifting up to admire the broken face he hadd bashed into the cement. Smiling behind the black surgical mask and sunglasses. The woman's head thuds to the cement, her blood poured out and seeped into the cement. Not an ideal thing. A summer breeze rustles the bit of blonde peeking from below the deep wine knit cap. The dim light shows the low drain field and its wild grasses, it hasn't been mowed down yet. In a month's time when it approaches storm season they'll mow it. Butcher it to ugly shortness. For now he could enjoy its simple beauty.

His legs snapped up, and for a moment his head spins. Dizzy from the sudden movement. Someone is walking through that grass. He was certain they could see each other. The person made no move to slow their approach. Maybe he'd have a second body to deal with. Not ideal, but one he had accounted for. A witness is a witness.But as they grew closer. He could make out more and more. The length of her hair, the scar across her cheek like a white slash. Smoke was drifting from her, a brand he smoked he knew the scent of that tobacco. A short distance away and just a little down a slope he can make out what shes wearing. Something dark covers the skin of her neck, right hand and upper thighs. Short sporty shorts and a dirty blue shirt. The grey jacket she wore was worn and fraying. Thick black boots brought her to a stop, she gazed at him. And he gazed back. The man was for a moment, speechless. Not for her looks or roll of her hips when she rested on one side.

It was an expression forming on her face. Thin lips curling into something bemused. Wind swirled her wet hair that was loose from her ponytail.

Its her who talks first. Hoarse and low. 'Wanna smoke?' She asks, holding the pack out to him. Offering one of her cowboy killers with one gloved hand. The other was preoccupied with holding her lit cigarette. There's only a mental hesitation, his feet move first. One two, and then hes sliding down the slight slope of concrete. The drainage hole behind him yawns black.

'Palmal reds?' he asks, taking the cigarette with his gloved hand. He cant take his eyes off her. There was something in that dark gaze that pulled at him. Something new had sparked inside. While she pockets the smokes without answering, he lights with his own lighter. I dont think she saw the body, or if she did she doesnt look like she’d give a shit about it. 'Morning walk?'

'Something like that.' She replies dully, taking a drag and exhaling. 'I have to make a decision.'

I like the sound of this. 'Tell me.' He insists with a puff of smoke from his mouth. 'Strangers keep good secrets.'

That earned him another look in her eyes, as if she had to gauge his sincerity. There was a lacking fire behind that gaze though, and he wondered what had killed it. He didn't know this woman. This unexpected encounter was starting to feel like destiny. Something about her was setting out neurons in his mind that had fired only when he had been bashing that bitches face into the concrete.

'Im deciding if I should kill myself.'

They stared at each other, a breeze breaking him of the spell.

'Why would you want to do that?' his cigarette burns, forgotten in the air where he holds his hand.

She takes in a cloud, exhaling her words with the smoke. 'I think ive finally done it, Ive ruined my life. For real this time.'

Was he supposed to know the last time? 'How have you done that exactly?'

Another silence, more thinking maybe? With less than half left he finally has another drag. Watching her lean to glance up and behind him. He sucks on his tooth gap, rubbing his tongue there as he thought. She glances up to him, goosebumps litter his skin. Theres the fire he thought was in her, flickering cold and blue in her eyes.

'Is that your work?'

She wants an invitation? He was almost flattered, almost giddy. was this woman? 'Just a bit of it.'