TW: Death, Violence, Gore

Inspired by No Body, No Crime. -Taylor Swift

❛❛「₪」❜❜

Do you know what's the one thing that feels even better than revenge? Avenging someone.

As I carry the body on my back, I smile to myself. Contented. Proud. Relieved. The weight on my shoulders that pushes me down does nothing. That's because the weight in my heart was set free today.

Everything I did to get here, I did gladly. I find myself not regretting anything at all. Because it was all worth it in the end.

Every drop of blood that was shed, every cry that left his soul, every sob that escaped him, every apology, every request, every plead for mercy; it all made me feel better.

But the ending, that was the best part.

"You think you can set yourself free?" I scoff at his vain attempt.

He sighs in frustration, which enrages me more than I already am. I'm not used to not being answered. I do not appreciate it.

I uncross my legs and lift my right leg. The red heel pokes at his chest ever so slightly. "I asked you a question."

No answer. All he does is lift his head to meet my eyes briefly, unimpressed. And then he spits on my leg.

Now, I am by nature an impatient woman. But I never let it show. So while this act of defiance makes me want to strangle him, all I do is raise an eyebrow.

"I don't appreciate so much boldness. Not from a man who should be crying and begging to be set free anyway."

"Whatever makes you think I'm going to give you the satisfaction of that?"

"Don't make me."

"Oh, I dare you to. I bet you don't have it in you to kill a fucking fly. End this madness because we both know it'll bring you noth—"

My heel digging into his cheek somewhat muffles his words. Good thing. His voice makes me sick anyway.

"I think you meant 'sorry'."

"In your dreams, you b— AH!"

A trickle of blood slides from the edge of his lip, slowly making its way to his neck, until his white collar soaks it.

"You were saying?"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

"Easy now," I whisper, crossing my legs again, "we'll get there soon. Though, I think you already have an idea."

"I don't know what the fuck you are talking about."

"No?"

"No."

"So shall we get straight to the point then?" I tilt my head, amused.

"Look, whatever you want, just tell me and I'll get it arranged, okay? Just stop this madness."

Madness seems to be quite an accurate word indeed.

"Whatever I want?"

"WHATEVER you want." He looks at me with a hope in his eyes which resembles the hope of a parent convincing their child that Santa is, in fact, real.

"Tell me how you killed her."

"Killed her? What? Who—"

"You know who."

"Surely you don't mean—"

"Your girlfriend, yes. Stop wasting my time and cut to the chase. How did you kill her?"

"How could you ever imagine me doing something like that? What, because I am trying to move on and have a new, normal relationship you're going to assume I killed her? We don't even know if she's fucking dead!"

I sense it, the fear in his eyes. He knows he's been caught.

"You know very well that I'm not buying your shit."

"Look, I don't know what's gotten into you, but if you are so concerned about your best friend go help out the goddamn cops instead. Holding me hostage is going to bring you absolutely nothing. I'm just a normal guy, who wants a normal life—"

"Stop rambling and answer my question."

"You think I don't miss her?"

"I said stop rambling and answer my question."

"I HAVEN'T KILLED HER FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

I deliver a sharp blow across his face, and with no second thoughts, I pull his hair back, my teeth gritting.

"Do not. Test. My patience. The more you resist, the more you compel me to get to my worst."

"I swear—"

"When I say worst, I mean it. I can do the ABSOLUTE worst."

"You wouldn't . . . "

"You don't know me." I enunciate.

"You think one drop of blood and a slap will make me beg you to stop?"

It takes me no longer than a second to reach out to the wine glass on the table beside me. In a moment, I smash it on the table and pierce the broken edges into his tied hand.

"FUCKKK! YOU MADWOMAN!"

"Now be good and answer me."

"I'VE DONE NOTHING! FUCK!"

"Should I higher things up a notch, then?"

"WHY ARE YOU SO CONVINCED THAT I DID IT, FUCKING HELL!"

"You have every reason to."

"And what if you're wrong?" He whimpers.

"I'm not."

"Listen to me, you need to get a bloody life."

"Look boy, I need a break. I'm going to walk out for a cig. It'll give you time to contemplate all the things you've done. And when I'm back, I expect you to tell me the truth."

"There are pieces of glass in my fucking hand and you want to have a stupid cigarette? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR—"

I shove a piece of cloth in his mouth and use another to tie it. God forbid, if I have to hear him cuss and call me names again, even a cigarette won't help me tone down this headache.

When I finally get some nicotine in me, a sigh of relief escapes my lips. The pitch-black sky fades a little with the rings of smoke that leave my lips. The moon looks unusually beautiful tonight. You were right, after all. Every moon tells a story. Today, the moon is half. Like I am without you.

I don't know how long I've been weeping. I don't even notice it when my vision turns into a blur. I don't notice it until a drop falls onto my hand. I bite back a sob.

Your silly, toothy grin flashes across my mind. I remember you. All of you. Not just your good bits, no. I remember your frizzy, dirty blonde hair when you'd wake up from a deep slumber. I remember your adolescent days when your face was full of pimples. I remember your untidy preppy clothes on days when you were low. I remember your face filled with tears and snot when your heart broke for the very first time. I remember it all.

I'll avenge you. That's a promise.

When I go back to my guest held hostage, I find him struggling to get free. Again.

"You know what, I'm gonna tell you a secret which you can take to your grave." I untie the cloth from his mouth and sit on the chair facing opposite him, discarding my heels and folding my legs up to my chest. I hold my face in both my hands and look him right in the eyes, faking the most pitiful expression I can fake.

"You're not the first person I've held hostage. So stop trying to escape. It won't work." I tell him, and when his eyes widen, a laugh escapes me.

"Some of them even made it out of here alive, if they behaved. But the chances seem to be really slim for you right now."

"YOU LIAR!"

"Oh?"

"Your threats and fake stories won't scare me."

"That's the problem with you. You're not scared. But you should be."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of the things I'll do to you if you do not tell me what you did to her."

He snorts. "You wanna play secrets? I'll tell you one. Your 'best friend' didn't even like you. She thought you to be crazy like everyone else does. And boy was she correct."

"So she didn't like me but she met me every week? You expect me to believe your sad little lies?"

"Ever heard of pity?"

She couldn't. There's no way this is true. He lies. What we had was special. You cared for me the way I cared for you. I know you still do. You were the brightest of angels, the most innocent person I knew. You couldn't lie like that. It was unlike you to fake all of what we had. You loved me, didn't you? I know you did. I know you did. I know—

"AHHH! FUCK! YOU PSYCHOPATH! FUCKK!" He bawls.

When I look around, I find myself standing with a hammer in my hand, and when I look down at his, I see a blue patch on the back of his pale hand. His knuckles are swollen, one of them even dislocated, as the finger hangs merely through the support of the flesh there. It was the same hand as before, the one with pieces of glass in it. I felt like I was going to puke.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE GODDAMN IT!"

"Stop shouting."

"LET GO OF ME, I WON'T TELL ANYONE. PLEASE LET GO OF ME, FUCKK!"

"I said STOP SHOUTING!"

"STOP SHOUTING? GET A LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE FUCKING DONE TO ME!"

"Admit the truth, and I'll let you go."

He gulps, his face filled with tears.

"Fine. I killed her. I'm sorry, okay? I just- It was an accident. I swear it was an accident. She caught me cheating, and we fought, She-She hit me first, I SWEAR! She came to attack me with the fucking v-vase so I just defended myself and she d-died. I SWEAR I didn't intend to kill her. Please, PLEASE, let me go."

"Just an accident?"

"Exactly. Just an accident." He sobs hysterically now.

This time, I smash his fingertips instead.

"NOOO! SHIT, SHIT, SHIT! YOU MANIAC! SHE WAS RIGHT, SHE WAS RIGHT YOU'RE BLOODY CRAZY!"

"I'll ask again. Was it an accident?"

"Will you keep hitting me until I say what you want to hear?"

"I simply want the truth."

"If I tell you, you'll kill me." He hollers.

"If I kill you, won't that make me the same as you? The mere thought of it disgusts me."

He looks at me, scrutinizing my face to see if I meant it.

I did. He wasn't dying, not anytime soon. I was going to make sure he doesn't.

"I stabbed her. She—"

"Shut up. No justifications whatsoever."

For what felt like an eternity, we say nothing. All I can imagine is her body lying numb on the ground, a knife piercing through her chest, right into her heart.

"Was it painful?" I sob. "Did it hurt when she died?"

"It was quick, actually. She- she didn't resist."

"Where did you hide her body?"

"There's a forest near my place. There's a singular fir tree right on the edge of the lake. She's right there, I swear. Just let me go. Please. PLEASE."

I get up and restrain his mouth again. He doesn't need to speak now. Not anymore.

His face screams betrayal. I guess he finally got a taste of his own medicine.

I didn't betray him though, not really. When I bring a knife from the kitchen, his muffled screams get louder. He shakes his head vigorously as if begging me to stop. I can practically hear him thinking 'You said you wouldn't kill me'.

"You know, I told you I wouldn't kill you, and I'm going to stand by my word. However, I don't remember promising not to hurt you."

I know he's screaming the word 'stop' under the bundle of clothes. But since we're playing secrets, here's another. I am crazy.

A stab at his arm. Blood sprays on my face. "I won't kill you." A stab at the shoulder. More blood. "I won't give you your quick escape." Another stab in the thigh. Even more blood. "I'll hurt you till you regret every second of your existence." Another stab on the injured hand. Way too much blood. "And then I'll leave you here." Another stab somewhere. More blood. "To rot." Stab. Blood. "To die." Stab. Blood. "I won't kill you, no." Stab. Blood. "But you'll die." Stab. Blood.

Stab, blood, stab, blood, stab, blood, sta—

I open the doors to my room and set your body on the bed. Welcome home.

I comb your blonde hair. You look like a fairy, even though there's far too much dirt and bugs in it. I smoothen the creases on your white sundress. It looks pretty on you, albeit a little bloody. I caress your cheek. I still see your dimples, even if your skin has started to decompose.

Well, you don't exactly smile, but you will soon. You'll fall in love with your new home. We can stay like this forever. This can be our little secret.

Speaking of secrets, I have a last one to share.

I love you.