I let out a sob.

Really, after murdering my beau, I shouldn’t be crying. But there he was, lying on his side, with a bullet in his back.

There was barely any blood.

But sitting on the side of the bed for the past three hours, I watched the blood slowly seep into his jacket. Taking a sip of the wine sitting on the bedside table, I got up.

I come down to his level, rolling him onto his back with my free left hand. His eyes are wide open; scared, possibly?

I never saw a dead body before.

I touched his lips- they were blue, and they were cold. I tenderly played with his facial muscles, making him smile.

Biting my left hand’s thumb, I slowly got up. I put the wine glass back on the bedside table, and took the queen-sized blanket off the bed.

Shaking it out, it gently touched him. Looking into his eyes one last time, I let out a small sigh, and then threw the blanket over him.

View this story's 1 comments.