If Only She Was Quiet by Isla H
I swiped the tissue over the vial and looked at her. She looked as if she was sleeping, eyes closed, laying back in her chair. No. I thought. Snap out of it. It had to happen. It had to.
“I'm sorry,” I muttered. “But if you'd kept your stupid gossiping mouth shut, I wouldn't have had to do this…”.
After all, I didn't do it out of cold blood. I still loved her. I placed my gloved hand on hers.
“Night, Iris. See you in the next life.” It's not like it's going to be that long until they find me. But I did this for my niece. Her daughter.
I carefully exited the room and gently closed the door, taking her phone out of my pocket.
I dialed a number as I walked out the front
door, listening for the ring.
“999, what's your emergency?”
“... 94 greenfield avenue. An ambulance.”
“I can be there in 40 minutes-”
I hung up, placed the phone on the floor, waved goodbye to Iris and got in my car, peeling the stained gloves off of my hands.
I waited to drive to a country road, took my shovel out of the car, and began digging. Eventually, a shallow hole was made, and I threw in the gloves before trying to fit the turf back onto the hole. It was done. Would I get away with it? Yes. I would. But did I want to get away with it? No.
After all, who says a murderer has to enjoy it?