There’s just something about him . . .
A woman’s decorative touch on the door tempts me to turn back, but the memories of Christmases spent alone keep me planted.
I pull the sleeves of my sweater over my fists to conceal what I hold in my hand.
When she opens the door, I hook my finger around the trigger and fire. Point blank, dead center, right between the eyes. Her body crumples to the floor.
Now he knows how much I want this. Body still sore from the surgery— I’ve changed everything for him. My hair, the way I dress, how I speak. I’ve even killed.
As she lies dying, her eyes are still open. Sheer terror frozen in their gaze. I wonder about her last thought, before the bullet pierced her skull.
That an unsuspicious knock on the door, while gingerbread cookies bake in the oven, has snatched her life from her? Or that the face behind the wool-wrapped double-barreled pistol was her mirror image?
Talk about a “dangerous” woman! 😉Written for #LyricalFictionFriday, a challenge that uses song lyrics as prompts. Today’s prompt is: I’m locked and loaded…completely focused…my mind is open…