The murder.

He sat back and looked at the mess he'd made. His reputation for creating havoc preceeded him. The pool of blood, the scarred face. There used to be a smile there somewhere but he took the liberty to erase that. Forever. Funny word that. Her incessant usage of it used to bug him no end though he never said it out loud. Now no more. He was free. 

If I leave here tomorrow,
Would you still remember me?
For I must be travelling on now,
'Cause there's too many places I've got to see.

He did believe in the beauty of a perfect crime. He hadn't intended to pull the trigger, no. But it was inevitable. She was asking for it really. Her with her constant whining about it being too sunny and it raining too less and him being too absentee. Well, he was here now and so was she. He traced his initials on her palm. The stupid thing she always used to slip in his - make him feel tied down. Tied to the one that he fit with with ease. But he wasn't the missing clue to a puzzle. He was the puzzle himself. He wasn't one to need someone to fit with. 

The bourbon rested neatly on her sidestand, a few drinks still left on account of her horrible capacity. She used to be able to drink when they'd met. He wiped his gun clean with the seams of her dress. Her fragrance was soon starting to fade though as the pool of blood took over, drop by drop. That annoyed him. He used to like being able to tell them all different without needing so much as a second whiff. Damn this red fluid for masking everything the same. 

He gulped down the drinks and then began the tedious task of erasing everything that might link him to the crime scene. There were books scattered around, with blood splattered on them. Hitchhiker's and Lord of The Rings caught his eye. He slipped them into the black leather bag first. Few fairytales and romance novels went in next. Damn, such a girl. There was a wrist watch with it's strap half undone due to the slight struggle she'd put up. He pocketed that. Next to seep into darkness were the toys that she had around since she was a kid. They were smiling still, almost eerily now at the fate they'd brought upon her. Serves her right, refusing to grow up despite repeated warnings.

He tore up the pictures on her cardboard. All the faces were familiar, he'd heard one too many stories about them all. She liked clinging to people, holding on to them long after they were gone. She liked to believe the best in everyone. Well, so much for unconditional love and blind faith. She'd know better than to trust a stranger next time and welcome him into her life. He took out his Swiss knife and played around with her skin, marking it with him. Good thing she couldn't tremble now, that might've halted his strokes.

He opened her drawer next. The combination lock was simple for him really. She never had kept one too many secrets. He knew her like the lyrics of the songs he first heard when he was five. Those kind of things tend to stick. As he stumbled upon a bundle of unsent letters tied up and kept in the corner, he decided to read just a few. However a few pages down the reading, he felt his eyes get numb. The bitch. She hadn't been lying. He'd always thought she was for that made things easier but these letters said otherwise. Next he hunted for the diary she was known to dutifully scribble in. Holding his head in his hands, he read words that were once exchanged. He slammed the drawer shut. 

Deciding to grace the floor with his skin, he sat beside her this once and held her in his arms. So fragile still, he recalled how happy she'd been to see him. He looked at the flowers scattered on the floor that he'd bought earlier that evening and retraced her words, "Flowers, really? For me?"
He had just nodded. The grin that followed was quite unnecessary he felt. She went on, "How come?"
He'd answered reluctantly, "Today marks something."
Those eyes had lit up instantly. The fool was expecting something else and he knew that all along. He grazed those hair that he'd loosened from the pony they were tied into earlier. 
"You'll stay the night?" she had asked him.
"Maybe."

But if I stayed here with you girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
'Cause I'm free as a bird now,
And this bird you cannot change.

Her eyes were still open. She had actually thought he was kidding when he'd pulled out that gun. She'd said again, "You cannot hurt me." That was what triggered it. How could she be so naive? There was no place for the innocent anymore, didn't she know that already? Hadn't he taught her anything? There was a split second of amazement when the bullet hit her chest, he hadn't been able to shoot her head though watching a splattered brain had been kind of a personal wish, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't catch her as she fell to the floor either. He towered over her, as she looked up to him and tried to smile. He could see the why forming on her lips which was when he silenced her by putting one more bullet, right through the heart this time. The eyes took just a second to freeze as she managed to get those words out in a bare whisper, the stubborn mad girl, "Im meleth le."

Bye, bye, baby, it's been a sweet love,
Though this feeling I can't change.
But please don't take it badly,
'Cause the Lord knows I'm to blame.

Those eyes would infest his brain for a while. He did love those. Once.
Those eyes were what remained in his memory as he decided to set it all to fire. He emptied a bottle of her favourite whiskey over her and those belongings that made her who she was, and then lit the match as he stepped out in the cold street. As he watched her go down, burn to ashes, once and for all, her with all her insanity, he felt liberated. Little did he know, she'd haunt his dreams still. With that same smile he'd wiped off and that pair of eyes he'd taken out the life from. Forever. Funny word, that.