Gruesome

Jenny lay in her bed, still as a statue. Yes, the curtains swayed slightly with the breeze that came through the windows, and the open book pages also fluttered. But the girl herself remained still.

Her body lay sprawled on the bed, a gaping wound on her stomach gushing out like a fountain of blood. And that was not all that had killed her. She had a cut as thick as the handle of the knife that had been used. No one would ever know how the killer had managed to make the cut so wide and so deep. And then there were the scratches on her arms, legs and face. Short and long. Shallow and deep. But that was nothing compared to the expression on the young woman's face. It was not an expression of horror or pain. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was an expression of complete happiness and almost relaxation. Her hands and legs and even her shoulders were not tense. Her mouth did not rise and fall and her eyes were wide open normally. But anyone with any sense could see that Jenny Tomes was at peace. That she was content.

Most people did not know that Jenny was a thief and murderer herself, apart from her previous (dead) victims. But that did not matter, because dead people do not talk.

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A/N

Like I said, short story. Nothin much. Hope you like it and do correct me if any mistakes are found.