The hammer felt heavy in his hand, cold blood dripping off the tip. There she lay in a bloody mess in the corner. Her hammer-smashed face revieling no expression, not that it could. The the ceiling fan cutting through the air above him silently created a breeze about the small room. He hadn’t moved for a good half hour just staring at her body. The dim flickering light above his head showed her face in short bursts. A small pool of hardening blood surrounded his boots. Brain matter covered the corner walls where her body lay. He dropped the hammer flinching at the sound when it hit the cement below. He bent down and touched the blood with his finger. He stood up and began to write a note on the wall. “Forgive me…” With the red gasoline tank in his left hand, he finally began to pour. The fumes mixed with the blood, creating a sensation of comfort to him. He splashed the walls, the body, and finally, himself. Before he knew it, the lighter that she had given him on their anniversary was lit…